The Relic
by mareegal
Summary: Thor and Loki bide their time on Earth, royalty without a kingdom, uncertain where their allegances lie. Loki's increasing ennui threatens to undo him, but Thor's quest to locate a fabled remnant of Asgard brings the brothers to Norway, where the artifact turns out to be much more than either expected, as does their time spent with a local archaeologist. [Set post-MCU.]
1. kaffepause

NOTES: This takes place after the events of the MCU, whatever those may be. And although (Spoilers!) Loki seems technically dead, we all know it is possible that he will return as he has done so many times before, and this story runs with that idea. Whatever the endgame of the MCU turns out to be, imagine if you will that Thor and Loki are in a state of downtime, where they have the freedom to go on this adventure together.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE:** _kaffepause_

"Explain to me once more why you need me to tag along this time? This endeavor of yours, I mean. Perhaps you ought to give up."

"Brother, I want you to come. Yes, I believe your talents will assist us in solving this mystery once and for all, but more than that… I think you will enjoy it." Thor's momentary hesitation to complete the offer betrayed fear, fear that Loki, in spite of his apathy for everything around him, would still find doing nothing at all preferable to the suggestion that there might exist something worth their while on Midgard. His brother had fallen into a dark mood like that of a caged animal, one with eyes growing myopic to the world beyond its bars. It was unlike him, and yet unsurprising; Loki was rarely like himself for too long a time. And yet what more could Thor have expected? The terms of their deal had not been as they hoped. But he was going to change all that.

Right now, Loki even appeared much like a cat-an infernal black one, of course-with his long limbs stretched across the sofa, nose slightly wrinkled as he stared down the cracks in the ceiling of the pocket-sized New York apartment Stark had procured for them. It was only meant to be temporary, but no end-date had been set, and it had become apparent, almost immediately, that more eyes were on Loki than Thor's alone. "And if it does not exist-"

"I am certain that it does," said Thor with a firmness a reserved for the moments when he was most determined. He watched his brother's tense jaw loosen. It gave him hope.

But Loki was not fully ready to please his brother. "Even so, so what? It's merely another temple to Odin that's been left to rot. How are you not sick to death of it by now?"

"If I'm right, it is much more than a rotting building. My archaeologist friend and I are very close to discovering its location. It may be a relic of Asgard. A true relic. Is that not worth a thorough search?" The tone of Thor's voice had become something plaintive. It cracked. He swallowed and discovered a lump had taken form in his throat. There was no concealing any of it once it had already happened.

Loki finally turned his attention toward his brother, with eyes that could only be described as unmasked. Thor thought he saw a hint of the boy he had grown up beside, the boy who had become a relic himself. And there were times when Thor, too, felt like an artifact from a bygone era.

"Come with me to Norway. But if you say no, I promise not to ask again."

It was a lie, and an obvious one at that.

Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hope felt like a coin on the edge of a knife, which was appropriate given his brother's penchant for daggers. He was close enough to the door to begin his journey without Loki, if his attempt to lure him out of the darkness failed, though it would require more machinery and less magic. His bag was packed. Stark had a plane ever available, though even he seemed to be growing weary of Thor's obsession. But what did he expect? Was it not good that there was time, at last, to do anything at all?

Loki's chest collapsed with a sigh and Thor released a long-held breath of his own.

"Oh, why not? Since you asked so sweetly."

* * *

The season was autumn, but it was far colder on the archipelago than it would have been inland. Thor watched with amusement as Loki transformed his black suit into a black sweater. He himself had come prepared, wearing thick denim and carrying a knapsack that was bulky, though not especially heavy, the way it bounced off his shoulders as they strolled down a charming main street.

Seine was a quintessential Norwegian fishing village, with a smattering of brightly painted homes and local businesses. It was simple at heart and proud of the old way of life, but it had not closed the door on a sizable tourism boom following a children's film about Scandinavian princess sisters, and in a few years there were as many boutiques, museums, and other attractions dotting the gentle hills as there were buildings devoted to the fishing industry on which they had once relied for their daily survival.

Not to mention an influx of trendy coffee shops. It was near dusk, but Thor insisted that he wanted a cup as they came upon one that was particularly unassuming. Loki insisted that he did not care for the drink, but he followed his brother inside. Besides, it had already been explained that they would soon be meeting someone, Thor's archaeologist associate, at the establishment. The place bore a sign in a serif font that said **kaffepause** , without any capital letters, and it was crammed between two larger and much nicer looking restaurants that Loki was vocal about finding far preferable.

The interior of the minuscule cafe was modern and close to boring, except for the lighting, which was astonishingly close to natural sunlight in spite of the lack of windows. It was so honey-colored that Thor had once asked the owner how it was accomplished, to which she said something about refusing to use "those new bulbs that make everything moldy looking" and that she had illegal lighting stockpiled in the back.

"They use forbidden light bulbs here," he whispered as they approached the counter. Loki reacted to the information by knitting his eyebrows, causing Thor to grin broadly.

"What does that even-"

Loki did not bother finishing the question, because in two steps, they were already at the counter, and sound carried swiftly in the tiny shop, even Loki's voice, which was typically mellifluous even when he was upset, perhaps more so. Two patrons, who appeared to be on a date, looked up from their intimate conversation and glowered.

The woman on the other side of the counter was seated on a stool, curled over a hardbound book with yellowing pages. Her blonde head, blue eyes, and fair features were like so many in the country, but her smile was the first they encountered walking through the town. With short hair a few centimeters from truly androgynous, and wrapped in a snug cobalt turtleneck, she made a striking presence. Still, Loki could not have guessed the human woman's age within ten years. She was that rare sort with a mature aura and an unlined face,, but she lit up like an absolute schoolgirl beneath the warm lights as she recognized the older of the two Odinsons. It was readily apparent that Thor was a regular patron.

"I wasn't expecting to you back until later this week," she said in an accent that was not strictly Norwegian, and she hopped down from her perch. "Right?"

Thor heard his brother release a sound of mockery that was meant for his ears alone, but one that was also easy to ignore. "I know," he said, "But I was able to to convince my brother more quickly than expected. Cora, this is… Loki."

Now, Loki's infamy was a given, but there was still much to say on the matter of how he came to be an (allegedly) free man in New York, permitted to travel in the company of his brother, rather than a war criminal rotting in a cell. Yes, much to say, but little that ever was. Cora's eyes, which were already of a round shape, widened further before narrowing keenly on Loki, the stare itself going on for a moment longer than it ought, and he did not care for what he saw in the recesses of her gaze: judgment, fear, the human condition at its absolute worst. Her previously striking appearance dissolved into something common to him. Loki cleared his throat and began to stare straight back, to give her a taste of what she was dosing, when she suddenly turned away and busied herself with rearranging a short stack of paper cups. The abrupt shift in her attention was enough to put him off even further. Her business with the cups was worthless, a distraction. Loki's neck felt hot. Finally, she shook her head. "I'm not certain I know what I was expecting, but-"

Loki rolled his shoulders. "Do you make coffee or do you only supply scintillating observations?"

"Yes," interjected Thor. "I would like a coffee. That sort were you pour the water over the individual cup. My brother will have…" He looked at Loki, who used his entire body to shrug. "My brother will have the same."

Cora started to brew. Thor ushered Loki to a small table with two chairs, pulling up a third before sitting down. "My friend will join us soon. It all depends on when work is done for the day."

"Yes, your archaeologist," said Loki. "This place closes in half-an-hour. Where do we go once they arrive?"

"That depends on where it seems best to go. She will know. She has been very helpful since we came in contact. She is an expert on Norse history."

"I imagine her to be an expert on having long dark hair and perfect breasts, as well," smirked Loki. He kept his voice low, as sound did travel, and they weren't far from the cafe worker. Cora may have lit up at the sight of Thor, but Loki knew his brother's type, and she was not exactly _it_. Nevertheless, Thor stole an uneasy glance over his shoulder at the woman making their drinks.

"She's blonde, actually," he corrected in a tone that was even more hushed, prompting his brother to do the same.

"Everyone here looks related."

"Because it helped us survive," came the voice of Cora from behind a puff of steam. The brothers had not been whispering as well as they believed. "Lighter pigmentation makes it easier to absorb vitamin D. That becomes important when you only have one hour of sunlight in the winter."

Loki lifted his brows. "If you don't mind, we were talking among ourselves. In fact, we're waiting for my brother's very important science friend, who is going to thoroughly educate us about our own culture. She is an expert."

Thor hissed for his brother to shut up.

Cora grinned to herself, a smile which quickly became a snicker as she poured the last of the hot water over the coffee grounds. "Yes, and I have heard she has legendary breasts."

Thor felt his blood flush hot across his shoulders and curl around his ears. A tense moment passed and suddenly Loki burst out in laughter. It was a short, ringing sound, which caught everyone off guard, even seemingly himself, and he slapped the table to steady his body. The sound of it scattered Thor's embarrassment. He sat astonished. It was so rare to hear his brother make such a sound since their return to Midgard. It slowly filled him with an entirely different warming sensation as he watched Loki bite his tongue to control himself.

Cora picked up the two steaming mugs and brought them to where the brothers had seated themselves. Simultaneously, the other patrons, who wanted to be obvious about how disgruntled they were by Loki's outburst, finished their drinks and made their exit. "Mange takk!" she shouted after them, making to sound like an insult rather than a farewell, and then made herself busy with cleaning the table. She finished by flipping over the chairs.

The shop was set to close in twenty minutes.

Thor took a large pull on his mug while Loki took in his reflection in his own. He cleared his throat and finished laughing.

"You told your scientist we were coming today, right? I'm just making sure, since you failed to inform your barista."

Thor's lips narrowed. He hummed a low note. "Yes, she knows we are here. She'll be with us as soon as she's done."

"Good. Because I am working on a pop quiz for her."

Thor shook his head and rolled his eyes, simultaneously exchanging a look with Cora. She gave him a wink, which Loki lifted his head just in time to catch. From the table, she moved to the door and lifted her fingers to the lock. Click.

Loki's spine stiffened and he sat up very straight. Thor watched Loki and Loki watched Cora, who returned to the service counter and went through the mundane task of pulling out a clean mug and filling it with boiling water. It was nothing exciting, but the tension continued to mount, even as she simply finished by submerging a fresh bag of tea.

The woman approached the table and took the third seat.

She held out her hand to Loki with a smile as sly as anything Thor had seen on his own brother's face. "Hello. I'm Dr. Cora Eriksen. Your brother and I have been working together for some time, searching for this mysterious Aesir temple he believes exists. I'm happy you've decided to join us, but I am a little nervous about passing your quiz."

Now it was Thor's turn to slap the table and laugh.


	2. Kodebryter

**Capter Two:** _Kodebryter_

"You tricked me," said Loki through teeth that were clenched, but he stood-or rather, sat at the cafe table-astonished and... genuinely entertained. A well-exacted prank seldom angered him, even one played at his own expense, and especially at the hands of his infinitely altruistic brother. Thor was most worthy of his attention at those times when he surprised him, which to be honest were growing more and more frequent. And it was the first real bit of amusement he had experienced in a long time.

"It wasn't intentional, Brother, but it was satisfying."

Loki's eyes moved to Cora, now revealed as the Dr. Eriksen they had been expecting. She was She coolly removed the tea bag from her mug, gave it a firm squeeze, and placed it off to the side. Her motions were fluid, precise and elementally violent, and the sight of the shriveled bag on the table prompted Loki to shift his weight, even if only subconsciously, crossing one leg over the other. A mere minute ago, he had categorized her as a chatty shopkeeper, verging on an annoyance, but there were few things so pleasing as to encounter a being who was at least a bit more than what she seemed.

"Then you did recognize me," he said.

The sinews in her neck tightened. She swallowed and nodded, but the look on her face remained somewhat pained. Loki thought it... Hm. Would he go so far as to call it odd?

"Yes, I know who you are. I've known your brother for months, so I've done my research." She had an accent that betrayed an education in the United Kingdom. Loki had learned a handful of useful things about humans.

Dr. Eriksen paused long enough to sip her tea. Loki noted how her upper lip was cut with the curves of an archer's bow, and that it suited her. To be honest, all of her features came together in the form of something objectively, but still uncommonly attractive. She was decidedly Norse, with a round, open face, in which were set round, open eyes. But to call her doll-like would have missed the mark completely. Her expressions were broad, rather fun to watch, far from delicately painted; it was a face that easily gave away her mind, something which Loki quickly noticed she seemed in battle against. The muscles of her jaw tightened as she spoke. "He tells me I shouldn't believe everything I've read."

"No, you should believe it," interjected Thor with a hint of a chuckle which Loki did not really appreciate. "But there are a lot stories that never could make their way as far as Midgard."

"Good stories?" asked Dr. Erk.

Thor winced. "...Ehh, some of them."

Loki dragged his index finger along the cafe table and gave it a loud tapping. He had other questions and wanted to be serious. "But why the coffee shop?"

Dr. Eriksen sucked in her cheek and chewed thoughtfully, slowly pulling in a long breath through her nose. "I bought the shop about two years ago. I had worked at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology for forever, but I needed to get out of Trondheim. Sometimes everything must change, you know? Coffee is only temporary. I have plans. I'd like to open a small museum. One day."

She finished her story with a smile that touched only one corner of her mouth. Loki felt a twitch upon his own, mirroring her. A "Hm" came from deep within his chest. He looked sideways at Thor, whose face had become drawn and somber. The tension felt disproportionate to her matter-of-fact demeanor.

"Don't feel sad," she said. "This is a better place for me. I'm happier here."

Loki wasn't certain he would call what he felt sad, but he remained intrigued. "And how did you meet my brother?"

"Just like this," she said. "He came in for coffee. His knapsack was full of maps. We started talking about what he was doing. At first, I didn't believe he was who he said he was, but-"

"You did your research," Loki interjected. "But tell me, because I'm curious, what did your research tell you? Your Norse mythology and Asgard's history are often intertwined, but in my experience, just as often-"

"I mean that I read about what happened in New York," said Dr. Eriksen. She looked at him with all the seriousness of a mother prepared to scold a child, and with the same desire that she would rather not have to say anything at all. It came into sharp focus that Thor vouching for him, whatever he had said, had only earned Loki so much grace. The rest of the work was his to do, if felt so inclined.

Loki was undecided. And more than a little put off by the evidence that Dr. Eriksen was a woman who liked to form opinions over half a story. But was that not typical in her field of work? Truthfully, his mood sank. Perhaps she was not so different a creature, after all. "You read what people knew would sell," he said, with tremendous control. His eyes moved deftly from her face to the hand holding her mug, where her knuckles had gone tight and white.

She must have realized he was taking notes, and she moved her hand to her lap.

"We could tell a bit about the arrangement," offered Thor in a voice that was uncharacteristically tentative.

"I'd rather not," said Loki, quickly. He had become aware of a burning deep within the folds on his brain, one which his mind told him to heed, not ignore. Something, he knew not what, remained amiss and unanswered, like a ghost in the room. It was something in the woman's demeanor, her poise a bit too perfected. Practiced. Was it possible that Dr. Eriksen's story, moist eyes an all, had been rehearsed? He knew fear when he saw it, or better, he knew what it looked like bottled up for the sake of survival, and the little ticks that gave it away. She was good, but he was older, and had survived more. He had the unfortunate advantage of experience, and far too much of it.

At last, Thor reasserted his position in the room. "Dr. Eriksen, I would not have encouraged him to come if he had not paid his due and proven his worth. I trust my brother."

For Loki, it was a bit too sentimental. "Thank you, Thor," he said through pursed lips.

"...In this endeavor," finished the strident Aesir. "But the undertaking is nothing small. Dr. Eriksen and I have examined nearly all of the Stave churches in the area. We've ruled out a number of them and now our work becomes more meticulous."

"Yes," she said, clearing her throat. She seemed more apt to relax now that their recruit required some education. "They are medieval structures, but it was often the practice for Christians to build over the sites of pagan temples after sanctifying the ground."

"Funny how what you call pagan, we call reality," said a very dry Loki.

"Nevertheless," continued Dr. Eriksen, "Many of the temples weren't completely destroyed. And your brother's theory"-she gestured graciously to Thor-"Is that some must have been protected by magic, unable to be dismantled. Well, what he asserts we call magic."

Loki leaned back his chair and looked out from the edges of his peripheral vision as Thor finished his coffee. The fire in his eyes had returned. Their trip to Norway had been swift, no time for long chats, but until now Loki believed he knew more than enough about what his brother had undertaken, flying to-and-fro, pouring himself over maps. It had failed to interest him. But now...

"Personally, I've always been fond of calling it magic," he said. The pause that followed was tense and dramatic. He might have shown off, turned someone into a snail, but for once the idea didn't occur to him. "So, I am to be your sorcerer codebreaker?"

Thor leapt on the hint that his brother might be in an agreeable mood after all, knowing full well how fragile those moments were. "I meant it when I said I wanted you to come so that we could do this together. We are the last of Asgard's royal line. If our forefathers left anything in these temples, would you not want to have it in our own possession? It was a bit of fun to trick you into thinking Cora wasn't Dr. Eriksen, but that is where the deception ends. Believe me, it was not my intention to-"

"No need to apologize, Brother," said Loki. An impish grin had taken over his features. "I like breaking things."


	3. Brødrene

**Chapter Three:** Brødrene

It was two hours to midnight when the newly formed party of explorers departed the coffee shop. Dr. Eriksen went to her home, which Loki inferred was within walking distance as she vanished into the night before reaching any sort of vehicle, while Thor directed his brother-also on foot-to the place where they would be staying; which turned out to be a quaint home with a rear-entry apartment that Thor had been indefinitely renting. It was a space intended for a single occupant, with one bedroom and one bath, but the furnishings were colorful, occasionally playful, and surprisingly to Loki's liking. The paint on the timber walls looked as if it had been selected to match the flinty blue of the night sky, and in the still and dark of night, all of it was something like a cozy womb. Thor would never have selected such a place for himself, unless it was the pragmatic best option, which Loki surmised was determined for the convenience of its proximity to the coffee shop and its private entry.

Loki dropped himself at the center of a plush sofa, expanding his sinewy wingspan to either side. "Nicely done," he said to Thor, who was taking the time to hang his denim jacket by the door and stow his knapsack. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd anticipated my arrival."

Across his shoulder, Thor gave his brother a simple smile. Loki lifted an eyebrow. He wondered if such was the case after all, but he did not ask, and Thor went back to doing what he had been doing.

The living area and eat-in kitchen split the same open space down the middle. Loki's eyes fell on what he recognized to be a refrigeration unit, though it was designed to appear like part of the wall. At the coffee shop, they had constructed a dinner of overstocked pastries which, while they were satisfying at the time, had not a true meal made. He rose from the sofa and crossed the room in a few long strides.

"I wouldn't eat anything in there," said Thor, entering the kitchen himself. "I haven't restocked it since-"

Loki opened the door once to reveal that the refrigerator was indeed nearly bare. He extended his arms inside, hands disappearing for a moment, and stepping back he removed a physical plate piled high with slices of fresh turkey, still glistening with juices.

"Nevermind," said Thor.

After a second pass, Loki produced a loaf of crusty white bread. He brought them to the counter and began his construction. Thor watched with an expression that went from amused to quizzical. "You conjure the ingredients from your cosmic pockets, but you actually make the sandwiches by hand?"

"Call me old-fashioned," chirped Loki with a pert smile.

Thor reached in and began to fashion a late-night snack for himself. A few moments passed between the brothers with only the sounds of their hands at work. "You know you are, in a way," said Thor.

Loki chuckled.

They moved to a pine table in the corner where there was a bowl of grapes ready and waiting, chilled to the point of being nearly frozen, just the way Loki liked them, and they were a perfect complement to the turkey. The brothers focused their energy on feeding themselves, realizing while they ate that they were much hungrier than they had thought. Seconds were had. Loki had not stuffed his face so thoroughly with food in a long time, nor had he felt so-what was this-relaxed?

Pushing his plate to the side was a little like coming up for air. He sighed audibly and rested his hands on his full stomach. From his periphery, he thought he caught Thor staring at him, smiling, something to that effect, but rather than calling him out, he contentedly smiled himself. There was no sense in pretending there wasn't something pleasant about sharing this infinitely improved living space, though he would not admit that Thor had told him so.

He turned his attention to a window nearby. The view was clear. There was the water in the distance and lights on the water. He could hear the distant chatter of two men as they coiled rope on the dock. The town was sleepy, but there were preparations to be made before turning in for the night.

None of it, on paper, was Loki's kind of setting. It was too small. He would run out of things to do in no time. But compared with New York, which had become a prison under the watchful eyes of what seemed to be everyone and their sister, it was something different. He wondered if what relaxed him so was the dawning truth that he was at last tasting a certain kind of freedom; a flavor he had forgotten, something somehow more delicious than the simple feast the famished brothers had just enjoyed.

Thor sighed. "I think I may actually be exhausted."

Loki shifted his attention back to the interior of the room. "I'm not quite ready. Are you going to take the bed? There's only the one. I can split it into two."

Thor rose from his chair with a groan and a stretch. "I was going to give you the bed and take the sofa," he said. "But your solution is better."

"No trouble at all," replied Loki. His words were immediately followed by the sound of wooden furniture scraping against the floorboards in the bedroom. He casually reached for a grape and popped it into his mouth, even through there was no room left inside him.

Thor pressed a hand on his brother's shoulder, no doubt in part to steady his weary body as he made his way around the table. "Goodnight," he said. "We're up at five, out by five-thirty. Don't stay up till all hours."

There was a hint of measured warning in his tone, as if there was more to be said on the matter of Loki's sleep habits as of late: the staying up, the sleeping in, the fairly constant desire to just stay asleep once his head finally hit the pillow. Loki made no comment, but he nodded in acquiescence.

Thor disappeared into the bedroom and it wasn't long before the noises behind the door went silent.

* * *

It was eleven-thirty, though timepieces in Norway apparently ran on a different system than those in New York, but twenty-three-thirty rolled off the tongue the same way babies rolled down the stairs. Loki had gotten used to more American quirks than he had realized.

Aside from water lapping at the nearby docks, the sounds outside the apartment had faded to a nothing, and the rooms themselves were silent as the grave. He had made his rounds through the living area and kitchen, looking through drawers and cabinets for the sake of exploring, or snooping, as the case may be. He found no secrets, but he did find a half-eaten box of chocolates, which he surmised to have been a forgotten housewarming gift when the apartment was let, so there was that. He ate a few. And then a few more. Chocolate was a weakness.

Loki entered the darkened room set close to where Thor was sleeping. Flipping the switch revealed a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, along with other bathroom things. "Hello, lovely," he murmured to himself. It was an antique; beautifully refinished, with untarnished silver hardware, proof that Thor had been favoring the shower in the corner. Such a waste.

It seemed like a perfect end to the evening, so he turned on the tap and procured for himself a towel and soap and a few other bathtime luxuries. He closed the door and, after removing what was necessary to enjoy a bath, slipped himself into the hot water.

At last, it was a moment that truly felt like his alone. Loki dipped his head beneath the water and came up wiping his eyes. Magic could not offer something better than this. It was the simplest of pleasures. He leaned back, his fingers curving around the edges like a pair of armrests, and sighed to release the last of the tension his body had retained. Even looking down at the nasty scar across his chest, the one left behind by a brutal Dark Elf, did not cause him its typical chill, and for once he chose not to conceal it with a spell. He would let it breathe, just as he was breathing/

Loki took a washcloth and began scrubbing his nails.

His thoughts wandered through the day, which had begun so differently than it was now ending. This was not the first time he had set foot in Norway, though the last time had been a mere matter of minutes. It had only been a means to an end, that end being to retrieve his failing father, a plan which had concluded quite differently, as well. And all of that had all been before…

Who was Dr. Cora Eriksen? Who was she really?

Loki's motions came to a halt. His brow knit a scowl as he considered the question which had so randomly popped into his mind-and yet his thoughts were seldom random. The question probably meant something, but what? She had explained who she was. Why had she come to mind at all?

Loki wondered if he had paused to think of Dr. Eriksen because she was an attractive woman and, if that was the case, then fair enough. But what if there was some other force at work? She seemed to appear, like magic, at just the right moment. And Loki, though he had refined the art of appearances and disappearances, was not a fan of coincidence.

Despite the nagging feeling, Loki could admit to enjoying their repartee. To a degree, at least. He found himself drawn to women of intelligence when he was drawn to them at all. She, however, did not appear to like him much. At times she had seemed just shy of finding the words to tell him so plainly. And had not Thor caused her to light up like Yuletide? No woman had ever looked at him like that. His gaze on Cora seemed to turn off the light in her bright eyes.

Loki abruptly realized that he he had begun to stare at the wall, long enough that his vision was blurred. He blinked to clear it. At the same time, a sound at the door alerted him to what had broken through his wandering thoughts. His brother barged in unceremoniously.

"Thor! What? I'm-!"

The scar on Loki's chest vanished in an instant.

"If it wasn't necessary, I would have waited," said Thor, before walking behind his brother to take care of what was oh so necessary.

The surprise faded to the point where Loki wondered if he ought to have expected his brother to burst in for the toilet. He rolled his eyes and started to make quick work of the rest of his bath.

"Thor… how well do you know this doctor-friend of yours?"

"Very well, I should think," he replied.

"And was it really just as you said? You wandered in, randomly. She took an interest in your maps. She just happened to have a former life as an archeologist?"

Thor buttoned up. "Yes, Loki, it was just like that. There's a saying I heard that I believe applies. It's that the truth can be stranger than fiction."

Loki reached for the plug. Sounds of water noisily circling the drain followed. "I think there's more to the story."

"Why?"

"Because there's always more to the story." There was a bite to his tone. He rose from the now-shallow water, reached for his towel, and wrapped it around his waist.

Thor turned to the sink and began to wash his hands. His eyes took on a thoughtful glaze, one that gave Loki pause as he caught sight of it in the mirror. "Is that all that makes you curious, brother?"

"I like to know the people I'm expected to trust," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Don't we all," replied Thor, just as matter-of-fact. They were three simple words that were far more than the sum of their parts. Loki waited for the other foot to drop, but his brother said nothing more about it. It was the closest thing to unkindness Thor had shown him in a long time, but Loki was willing to concede that he was being hypocritical, and perhaps that had been the point of it all. The subject was dropped.

"How much longer are you going to stay up?" asked Thor.

"I'm done," he replied. "Ready for bed."

"It's after midnight."

"I said I'm finished." His intention was to reassure his brother, but there was annoyance as well. Thor Odinson, Mother Hen. It was too much, really. "It helps me to sleep."

Thor nodded. "That's good."

Loki discarded the towel, though it didn't so much vanish as become a set of silk pajamas. He dressed and began to exit the room. Indeed, he was finally feeling sleepy. Thor turned off the light and followed, returning to the bed he had occupied before, while Loki took the other.

The room was blessedly cool after the heat of the bathwater. Loki stretched out on top of his quilt, rather than under it, and his damp hair soaked into the fabric.

"Goodnight, brother," said Thor. A yawn followed. Sleep was ready to reclaim him.

But Loki's mind continued to work. "What did you tell her about me?"

"...Cora?" Thor said her name as if he might have honestly forgotten who they had been discussing for the past several minutes, and his voice was tinged with a yawn.

"She knew I was coming, but she seemed…" He hesitated to finish, not that he was unsure what to say. Loki just wanted to hear his brother's offering first.

"You know how the people of Earth feel about you."

Or perhaps not.

Thor continued. "I believe she will warm up to your presence. Our family is her field of study, and she has been a good friend to me."

None of it was particularly what Loki wanted to hear. "Then I look forward to her tolerating me for your sake."

"Don't be like that."

"Why not? It's fine." It was what he was used to, but he spared Thor the lament. It would solve nothing. But he had hoped-why had he bothered?-his brother's archaeologist friend would have eyes that looked deeper than… No, in the end, each member of mankind was of the same mold as the last, quick to judge what they did not know and even faster to fear it.

Slowly, Loki's eyes adjusted to the dark and he stared at the ceiling, and then his lids at last fell.

"Loki…" came his brother's voice, half-dreamlike.

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't be asking after her because-"

Loki's eyes opened once again. "If you ask me one more time then you really have become the most ridiculous-"

Thor chuckled. "I was only joking. Sleep well, brother."


	4. Kirken

It seemed, to Loki, that he had only been sleeping for a matter of minutes when the alarm Thor set began barking orders, and at best, it had still only been five hours. He lifted his head, expecting the same impenetrable fog and sense of foreboding that had become such a familiar bedfellow, but he was surprised to find that he rose with ease, with a clear head and lungs eager to enjoy the cool Nordic air. In fact, of the two of them, it was Thor who seemed ill-suited to start the day. Loki placed his bare feet on the floor, while his brother covered his face with his pillow to stifle a scream.

"You stayed up too late," said Loki, echoing Thor's concerns from the night before. He turned his body toward the kitchen, eager for breakfast, a desire that also had been absent for some time.

Thor dropped the pillow off the side of the bed. Loki had already dressed himself, conjuring an outfit similar to something he'd noted in a magazine lining a drawer in the apartment, comprised of forest greens, suede, sleek lines, and poorly suited to a day of spelunking in ancient churches, but as usual he was determined to be the most fashionable one in the club. Thor raised an brow high enough to be noticed from the next room.

"What?" huffed Loki, eyes half-rolled.

"No, you look… good? Norsk."

Loki rolled his eyes the rest of the way. "Yes, well, I look forward to one day meeting the poor homeless man who donates to you the clothing he finds unsuitable."

Thor sat up and rubbed his eyes and slowly came to life. "It's called hipster..."

* * *

The sun was not set to rise for a few of hours, but the sky had given way to a color that was more royal, less ink. It was also chilly, much more so than the previous evening. Thor stomped his feet and breathed warmth into his palms. Loki had always fared much better when the temperatures dropped, for reasons made clear by a Jotun's icy grasp so many years ago, when his world had changed in an instant. But those thoughts were far from him. Rather, it was genuine anticipation aflight in his belly, the promise an experience wholly new. And that it would begin with breaking and entering a church was no small part of it.

Loki did not, however, enjoy suffering great blasts of wind, and it was frustrating to have to change his angle every few seconds to keep his hair out of his eyes. Thor, with his slowly-growing locks did not have such problems. At least he no longer resembled a fuzzy peach. Still, Loki did not envy him.

By five-forty-five, Dr. Eriksen was officially late, and Loki was on the verge of becoming annoyed by it when a compact electric car turned the corner, ultimately rolling to a stop at his feet. Thor climbed into the back, leaving the option of either joining him or taking the passenger seat. Loki hesitated, scratching at his palm. There would be little room for his legs beside Thor in the tiny vehicle. With a shrug he ruled in favor of physical comfort and seated himself beside Dr. Eriksen, who was wearing a traditional Nordic patterned blue and white sweater-dress and decidedly nontraditional chunky black boots.

"I thought you Scandinavians were known for your punctuality," said Loki.

"If we're going to start the day off with stereotypes, you're thinking of Germans," said Dr. Eriksen. She applied pressure to the gas-pedal and the car lurched forward.

"Duly noted," said Loki, throwing out a hand to keep his face from smashing into dashboard. The ride smoothed over and he turned his attention out the window, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He had assumed the woman did not own a car, but here he was sitting in one. They were archaic machines, even in the front seat. At least there was enough room for his legs. But the vehicle reeked with the burnt odor of the cafe.

Thor had ended up stretching himself lengthwise across the entire back row. "You're not usually late," he said.

"Overslept," she replied. "But I brought coffee. The industrial grade."

She retrieved a paper cup and passed it over her shoulder. The car was so small that she could not make the motion without scraping the folds of Loki's fairly prominent ears. His head swiveled back, protestation ready to spring from his tongue, but he was thrown off as her hand struck his nose coming the opposite way.

"Sorry about that."

Loki made a show of assuring himself that he was still intact. At least he had been treated to a whiff of a perfume as her hand passed the second time. As Midgardian fragrance went, it smelled like the expensive, old-fashioned kind, and it was a welcome respite from the stench of coffee. The lines in Loki's brow softened. A little. The fact remained that she had not bothered to meet his eye when making her apology.

"Only one cup?" he asked. It was less of a question, more of a comment.

Dr. Eriksen chewed her lip. "Oh. You didn't drink any yesterday. I thought you hated it."

Loki lifted his brows. "You gave up on me that quickly? Goodness, I think that might be a record. Thor?" He twisted around to appeal to his brother in mocking fashion.

"He does hate it," said Thor.

Loki's lips thinned to a line. His brother was no fun before coffee, apparently, like the trope those American sitcoms beat to death: bleary-eyed, ill-tempered people, growling at one another for not preparing their blessed coffee.

"Can't you make coffee just appear, if you want it so badly?" asked Dr. Eriksen, swirling the air with her index finger.

Loki screwed his face at the motion her hand made, looking like someone had popped a lemon wedge into his mouth, as if the gesture was vaguely lewd. "I could. But I'd rather not have the taste of burnt tar in my mouth all morning."

They rolled over a few bumps in the road. There was a beat, and then Thor began to giggle latently. "...That's what she said."

Another beat, and Dr. Eriksen burst out with a guffaw.

Loki turned back to the window, biting hard on his tongue so that they would not catch him laughing, too, before being betrayed by a snort. 

* * *

They crossed a bridge to another island on the archipelago where a nearly identical fishing village had taken root, but at half the size of Siene. They drove away from the buildings and into the hills. The entire trip took roughly an hour, with the sun still lingering beneath the horizon when they arrived. But even in darkness, there was no missing the enormous stave church that cropped up in their midst among the grazing fields that dotted the rural landscape.

Loki would admit that it was a breathtaking sight, vastly different from the squat city chapels of Siene. (Not that he had entered any of them-perhaps they were nicer on the inside.) This stave, the stave of Torgunn, skirted the edges of being ostentatious in its majesty, with sky-scraping tiers of pitched roofs, stained black, like a chocolate wedding cake, with florets of wooden dragons that curved around perfectly layered wooden shingles. It was not the first time he had seen one, of course, but it had been a long time. He had been a child. Even then, they had struck him into a state of dizzying admiration, but now that he was grown, the feeling was closer to being enchanted, if not seduced by beauty. It was strange, as well, for it no manner did the church resemble anything of Asgard, but his heart began to ache for home it a way that made him grateful that he was already sitting down.

The humans were lesser beings, this was fact, but their capacity for art was enough to make one forget. It was almost understandable why so many Aesir people, even his own brother, had fallen hopelessly in love with them at one time or another. Loki had on occasion suspected his father - suspected Odin - of having his personal reasons for keeping Midgard close to his heart, but sentiment was a dangerous thing and attachments were worse. The stave had stood for centuries, but no one who built it was still breathing.

They parked. Loki tilted his head to peer at the haunting, but beautiful sight through the frame of the windshield. Thor noisily scooted himself out of the car and started stretching, but Dr. Eriksen stayed for a moment, taking in the view beside him.

"See," she said, "Not everything in Norway is blonde."

Loki turned to her with a quizzical expression. It melted away as he recalled his comment from the night before. "Appears I spoke out of turn."

By necessity in the tight space of the car, they would have to be nose-to-nose if they attempted to face one another, which they had not for the length of the ride. Of course, her eyes had been on the road, but more than that, aside from her intense stare upon their introduction, Dr. Eriksen had made a palpable effort to avoid any sort of real eye contact. Now, for a fraction of a second, by accident, they looked at one another directly. And just a before, when Loki returned her gaze, she suddenly blanched and turned away.

"Yes… maybe…" Dr. Eriksen murmured like someone who had half-forgotten the topic of her conversation. "I mean… Yes. You did." And then she forced a laugh so rehearsed that Loki literally shook his head in disgust.

Her cheeks changed from white to red as she failed to easily unlatch her seatbelt. The actual expression on her face, however, was set like flint, maintained with tight control, because she did not want him to realize that she was even remotely frightened. But she had already slipped. Loki cast his gaze out the window toward Thor, who was preoccupied with getting the blood back into his limbs after folding himself into the antique vehicle.

Is my brother too far for your comfort? Your frail human body in mortal peril?

Without a word, Loki reached across to Dr. Eriksen's seatbelt mechanism and pressed the button with enough force to free her.

"Oh. Takker." she chirped, slipping into norsk as she got out of the car, leaving Loki to stew in what felt like pure indignation, his blood hot enough to sear every cell of his body. By the Norns, he had done nothing to this woman. She was no resident of New York. She had lost no one!

His breath caught a hitch and he held it there, stealing a moment to close his eyes. If it was guilt and remorse she was waiting for him to express, then Dr. Eriksen did not have the lifespan for it. Loki could not fathom how a being could understand so little and yet consider herself so well-informed. Human brains must have been little more than a slapdash bundle of wires, an unfinished design, perhaps. It was easy to conceive that their mold was meant to be practice for greater things, only someone forgot to shut down the project before they overpopulated their planet, and by that point their creator had just felt sorry for them.

Loki's heavy eyelids lifted and he released the air from his lungs. Safely outside, Dr. Eriksen's smile had resurfaced. Thor appeared to be telling jokes against the dark backdrop of the stave. He caught his brother's eye. What are you doing in there?he seemed to ask. Loki was being too obvious, it seemed. He opened the door.

It was not as though his brother's hands were clean. Perhaps Dr. Eriksen would enjoy the tale of how Thor had slaughtered a court of Frost Giants for the sake of his own pride. Not that Loki had ever had much sympathy for the Jotuns, whose practice it was to leave their runt sons exposed to the elements, whipped by the wind until their tears dried up. Yet, did the fact that they were a race of monsters lessen Thor's guilt? Had not his motivation been utterly pathetic?

Loki blinked. He made a faint motion of shaking his head at himself, knowing that he was beginning down a path as unhelpful as it was unfair. Thor was not the same person now as he had been then. Over the grand course of his brother's life, that era, marked by bratiness, debauchery, and entitlement, while not short in length, seemed greatly diminished by the quality of the last several years - even Loki had begun to easily admit this.

And when it came to the Jotuns, well, he had played a role in that mess as well.

And then there was the deal Thor had struck with Stark and Stephen Strange...

Dr. Eriksen started for the church.

Perhaps what made him so angry was the simple fact that she had a point. He had played a role in something horrific. And while it was true that Thanos had taken him apart and put him back together again and again and again - until Loki thought his soul a trifle to give away and was ripe for his nefarious mission - he had still walked willingly into that Titan's open arms. In the fraction of a second, the greatest mistake he had ever made, that a being was capable of making, was already irreversible. Loki had made deal with the devil. A human description, but more than apt. And in return, Thanos molded him into a beast far more heinous than a mere Frost Giant. Loki truly had, at long last, become the monster parents told their children about at night.

It seemed like another lifetime now. In fact, in was another lifetime. Loki's fingertips grazed his neck. He liked to believe that he, just as Thor had, had earned some modicum of redemption.

But if Dr. Eriksen did not feel safe in his presence, who could blame her? She seemed brave enough to spend time with him at all. He would give her that much. Loki felt what remained of his anger melt away, slowly becoming aware of the touch of his brother's hand on his shoulder. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," replied Loki, and by that point there was more truth in his words than there might have been moments before. He was returning to feeling calm, even capable of looking at Dr. Eriksen with understanding, or something close enough. His fevered rage began to appear more as a bout of paranoia and Loki felt ashamed to have slipped so far down the rope so quickly. "My thoughts got on a runaway ship, but I'm back again."

"Good. Come now, this is going to be fun."

The wind was biting, strong enough to whip Loki's hair into his face with a sting. He fought with it as they marched to the door of the church, which was shackled by an oversized steel padlock.

"The church is under the Fortidsminneforeningen," said Dr. Eriksen. "The Preservation Society. At eight-thirty, someone will arrive to open the site to the public, so we'll have only one-and-a-half hours to work, roughly"

Thor reached for the padlock, examining it with care. He turned to his brother. "Mind getting us in without destroying it?"

Before he had finished his sentence, the steel began to melt in Thor's hand. With a shimmer, it separated from the door and came back together in the same shape. The wind pushed the door open, beckoning them to enter.

Thor passed the lock to Dr. Eriksen as though was a momento she ought to keep, though they all knew it would have to be returned once they finished. She placed it gingerly by the side of the door. Loki thought he saw her swallow first.

He took a breath. He would attempt to make an effort. "I used to waste a lot of time attempting to actually open locks."

"Oh?" she said, rising up. In her impressive footwear, she was taller than she had been the other day. And there was something about the juxtaposition of leather, rubber, and wool that Loki approved of, as well. If he needed to find something to like about the woman, it was at least a place to start.

"Altering matter is much easier."

She quirked a smile. "You wouldn't think that, though, would you?"

Loki clasped his hands behind his back and they entered the church. "Well, once you master the spell, you can apply it to just about anything."

"I thought your talents were mostly about creating illusions."

"Yes and no. It takes more concentrated effort to have an effect on reality, but shifting metal a few inches to the side is easy. You take it apart and rebuild as you go."

"When you put it that way, it does sound like child's play."

"Oh, it is. Which is why I still hold the family record for hide-and-seek." Loki chuckled and then coughed to clear his throat. "True, Thor?"

"What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

The pitch-black interior gave way to caramel-colored wood as Thor activated a lightswitch. The church had been fitted with electric power so long ago that even the hardware looked a certain kind of ancient. Loki craned his neck to stare into the belly of the cavernous layered roof, which was a different sort of meticulous on the inside, but no less impressive, with its criss-cross beams and decorative arches.

"Just like a gingerbread house," said Dr. Eriksen.

"Not sure what that is," replied Loki and Thor in unison.

"It's a… Christmas thing," she replied.

"What's a Christmas thing?" This question came from Loki alone. His voice evaporated under the weight of his preoccupation, as he reached forward and pressed his palm against a low beam. The lacquered wood was cool to the touch. He leaned in closer and took in a whiff through his nose. Was this pine? It looked like pine, but the pleasant scent had become muddled after years of rain, generations of visitors, and layers of protective coatings.

Loki turned in time to see the others enter a side-chamber. He followed, ducking his head beneath a low arch.

They found themselves in a narrow passageway, with only room enough for them to travel single file. Their movements were filled with stops and starts, at times sending Loki's face into the back of his brother's head. Thor and Dr. Eriksen were too engrossed in their own world to react. Their work had immediately begun.

Loki's task had less to do with finding the thing and more to do with opening the thing once it had been found, but he had been thoroughly debriefed at the coffee shop. The presence of the temple was, according to legend, marked by a particular set of runes. Dr. Eriksen had explained something about Norse pagan practices continuing under a cloak of Christianity, and that the indication of the temple's presence may have meant something very different than a warning not to enter. She described it as a potential "secret handshake," which Loki found far more interesting than a gravestone to mark the past.

But he was of little use at this moment, and playing the part of Thor's tag-along was not something he long endured. For a while, he entertained himself by tracing his fingers along the walls' intricate carvings, like pictorial lace. It was a design he could replicate later, once it was committed to memory. Where he might make use of it, Loki did not know, but it was something pretty to tuck away.

"Tell me, Dr. Eriksen," he said at length, "If your preservation society is so keen on saving ancient things, how is it that you know more about the temple than they?"

"I suspect I don't," she replied. "They just haven't been able to unlock the door."

"Hm," sounded Loki.

"So it's good that you're here," she added. "As Asgard's reigning hide-and-seek champion."

Just as he had in the car, Loki pressed his lips together, fighting what threatened to become a smile. Not that it mattered. Neither of them could see his face. He was just reluctant to give himself the satisfaction.

* * *

Tap tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Thor and Loki's work echoed through the church, the sound bouncing off the multifaceted walls like a spider throwing strings of web. It was eight o'clock. In each brother's hands was a blunted staff, which Loki had conjured out of something similar to resin. Their discarded jackets and scarves had been tossed across various pews as their work caused them to slowly overheat in the windowless, airless structure.

Mystical runes had not been found, but the new plan was to attempt to circumvent them by searching for hollows in the structure. Magic or none, it seemed probably that a physical space existed between the frame of the church and that of the temple. The solution was practical, but time-consuming. And repetitive. And dull. And it was starting to seem very unlikely that they had selected the correct stave to explore right off.

The brothers worked at opposite ends of the nave, Thor close to the altar and Loki far in the back. Dr. Eriksen had vanished into the side chambers, still hoping to find the secret markings. There had been no sight of her for some time, but occasionally Loki could hear her heavy boots intermittent with their tapping.

Abruptly, there was a shuddering thud. Thor and Loki lifted their heads with concern, though before either of them could move, Dr. Eriksen shouted that she was Okay! and that they should Keep at it! The brothers exchanged a shrug and went back to work.

Except that as Loki shifted northward in the nave, he caught sight of Dr. Eriksen through an archway leading to a small chamber. With her hands pressed against her hips, she limped in a circle, looking upward. Loki turned to Thor, who was facing the other direction and too far to notice either way. He considered obeying the woman's orders to keep working, even going so far as to give the floor a few more taps, and then, rolling his eyes at himself, Loki left his task behind and walked into the tiny room.

"I hope you haven't started scaling the walls," he said. Loki approached with hesitation, knowing it would likely bother her to have been noticed, by him, and in part also closing in on her for that exact reason.

"What?" she said, distractedly. "Oh. I'm fine."

"I can see that you're fine, but what were you trying to do?"

Loki looked upward, immediately spotting what Eriksen had attempted. In the ceiling, about a meter over his own head, she had discovered the first interesting thing all day: a folding staircase, almost to a ladder, concealed in the ceiling. It was old, but not ancient, and it appeared to have been sawed off at the base, where it might have further unfolded, to discourage the exact sort of thing Dr. Eriksen was determined to do.

"I want to get up there," she said.

"Why?"

"Because someone doesn't want me to," she said.

The answer satisfied Loki. He decided to assist her in her foolish endeavor. Jumping up, his hands gripped the edge of the ladder, and he pulled down with the entirety of his weight. His legs swung forward. But the ladder did not move.

Loki dropped back to the floor. "Hm. Shall I turn it into something else?"

"Only as a last resort. It might be important to leave it intact. I don't want to miss anything."

"Fair enough." There was always the possibility that he might not be able to reconstruct it exactly as it had been. Loki adjusted his angle on the sight, squinting into the exposed gap, but all he could see was shadows. "I could magic you up," he said, swirling his finger in the air just as she had done when she suggested he conjure his own coffee.

Dr. Eriksen shook her head. "Pass."

"It wouldn't hurt."

"I'm not eager to find out whatever it feels like," she said.

"Humans are so squeamish." But Loki's face expressed consternation, not annoyance, because the last thing he could think to suggest was lifting her with his own hands, which would have been easy, except that given the angle of the opening and the size of the room, it would quickly become an intimate situation, like two novice dancers attempting an awkward pas de deux.

Loki scratched his palm and scowled. There had to be a solution. And he enjoyed a good riddle.

Ultimately, it took only another minute before he circumvented all their problems. That he had not thought of it first was a bit embarrassing. Ought he to have drank some coffee?

The Loki beside Dr. Erikson dissolved and a second later, his form took shape at the top of the ladder. He crawled down as far as he could, hooked his feet onto rungs to anchor himself, and extended a hand. "There," he said. "Ladder unscathed, you unscathed. Does that satisfy all the prerequisites? Grab my hand."

Dr. Eriksen was forced to look at him, though she stole a moment for a glance over her shoulder - most likely searching for Thor. Loki waved his hand to call back her attention. After another second of hesitation, she wiped her palm against her knit dress and wrapped her fingers around his. Her palm was cold and tense, but Loki had expected as much, and chose to overlook it.

Lifting her was the easy part, but scooting backward up the ladder was trickier than Loki expected. Typically, he found ways to outsmart this kind of physical demand. His backside hit a wall, forcing him to sit up. He pressed his back against the wood and pulled Dr. Eriksen the rest of the way. "There you go."

They were in some sort of corridor. The air was musty, thick with dust. His vision adjusted to the dim light and he was surprised to find Dr. Eriksen's eyes on him. It was a sideways stare, intense but furtive, as though she thought it might be something she could steal in the darkness and he might not notice.

Loki knew not what to make of it. Not at all. "What?"

As he expected, she turned away, shaking her head a little. "Oh. I was just surprised by how strong you are."

Loki's brows folded over his eyes, which burned before going cold, cold as ice. She was witness to none of it, of course. "In comparison to Thor, you mean."

"No. Yes. I guess."

It turned his stomach. Loki shook off the sickening feeling by rising to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes along the way. "Yes, well, surprise surprise."

"It was just that you did it one-handed."

"Please." Loki scraped past her toward a beam of light at the end of the passageway.

An archway lead back to the nave of the church, though at a higher tier. It was a path which encompassed the entire perimeter of the structure. He chose a direction at random and began to walk it. Soon, he could hear Dr. Erikson moving the opposite way. Their footfalls garnered Thor's attention, who halted his tapping and looked up, hopeful. "Have you found something?"

"No," said Loki.

"Not yet," said Dr. Eriksen.

Loki craned his neck and take in the intricate ceiling from this new angle. Dr. Eriksen could look for runes on her own. But the act of walking with his eyes pointed upward quickly turned dizzying, or perhaps it was the rush of blood to his head, and he came to a full stop as the path angled. His pulse asserted its presence with a dull but strident thud thud **thud** in is ears, an echo to Thor's tapping against the floor, or more like an army on the march.

He curled his fingers around the wooden barrier that served as an outer wall on the catwalk. For months now, his moods had centered on apathy, and to suddenly feel fire was to be uncomfortably warm. Loki cared no longer that Dr. Eriksen had a point worth making about New York or her knowledge of Norse history or anything else about the woman. He had offered her his literal hand in kindness and she repaid him with a swift comparison to whatever it was about his brother that was perceived as perfection.

"Listen, that was rude of me," she whispered. How long she had been standing at his elbow, he knew not. "But I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"Don't worry," he hissed at the same volume. "I'm quite used to it. People are constantly forgetting that Thor and I are both of Asgard."

Dr. Eriksen looked ready to reply, though instead all she did was closed her mouth and held it shut, teeth pressing down on her lips. Loki did not have to be a mind reader to surmise what she had nearly pointed out. He stepped toward her, tilting his head. It was time for him to play archeologist for a while, to dig up history that was better left buried. "Oh. But I'm not, am I? Not of Asgard."

For the first time, to her credit, Dr. Eriksen did not recoil as her prejudices came to light. She would stay to hear him out. Her feet seemed planted, though he considered it her loss when she glanced downward at her footing.

"Perhaps you're scared to be up here, alone with me, knowing how I could so effortlessly send you flying over the banister if the whim took me."

The timbre of his voice was a far cry from its characteristic snake-like coldness; it was harsh and throaty, on the attack. With a flash of dramatic light, the wool and suede that clothed him became leather, black and green, and a velvety cape stretched itself across his shoulders.

Still, Dr. Erikson remained fixed, and it began to puzzle Loki.

"I'm not scared of you," she said. Her voice trembled, but juxtaposed against her firm resolve to see the moment through, Loki did not fault her for it.

No, he… He believed her.

Why?

His lips parted, but Loki's mind had shifted into a speed too fast to articulate on the spot. He assessed what his eyes could see in the dark, so close to the dramatic angles of ceiling, which shielded them from the electrical lights below. Was it simply that she was able to meet his gaze and hold it, now that they were knee-deep in the muck of her prejudice and she could not take her leave without consequence. What was impressive about a rat in a trap?

Before he could ask anything at all, she spoke again. "All right, I admit that I'm scared, but you don't understand, it isn't about you. I mean… It is you, in a way. But not in the way that you think."

Loki knew not what to make of it. Not at all. "What do you think that I think?"

"That I'm judging you. The way that everyone else probably does." She shook her head. "I don't know. I imagine. That's what it must be like."

Loki swallowed. As he attempted to respond, he found that his ribs had become like a vice around his chest. "Everyone else?" He did not want to talk about everyone else. "Then what is it? What frightens you?"

Dr. Eriksen ran her tongue across her lips. At long last, she looked ready to bolt from her spot on the catwalk.

"What have I done to you?" he asked. He had ceased to believe her so readily.

Again, she hesitated to answer, murmuring a few unintelligible sounds before going silent, and Loki felt his budding compassion whither and die. His eyes became thin slits. In a flash, he felt he understood everything. Dr. Eriksen was not reticent to look at him because of the threat he posed, but because of what his eyes could see, and Thor's could not. He recalled the germination of his suspicion in the coffee shop and later when his mind had wandered in the bath. It had always been more than sheer gut instinct, but Thor had told him to stuff it down, and in the process of that, he had nearly forgotten.

But Loki knew what it looked like to he hiding something. Dr. Eriksen had some manner of secret. She did not want him to pry, even to look too closely, because whatever it was must have meant some manner of undoing.

He looked downward at his brother. Thor was already looking back at them - it was anyone's guess for how long. Loki's eyelids fluttered. He was convinced that "random" had nothing to do with the moment when his brother and Dr. Eriksen met. Thor was not quite a fool, but he was too open-hearted, too trusting, most especially when a pretty face was staring back at him, and he often did not catch up with his mistakes until long after they were already made.

But lucky for them both, Loki had once survived a deal with the devil, and he knew what to do next.

He turned on his heels, cape spinning and then vanishing as his royal garments transformed back into the Nordic fashion he had been wearing. Before reaching the next corner, he simply transported himself back to the ground level.

"We're out of time," he called to his brother as he walked toward the rear of the nave. He would wait for them by the car and he would be taking the rear seat. "Do assist Dr. Eriksen down from her perch. I fear she's climbed higher than she can manage."


	5. Fotografiet

They traveled back to Siene in silence; save for a few comments regarding directions, which passed between Thor and Cora alone. Loki, stretched across the rear seat, said not a thing for the entirety of the journey, but his mood filled the car with both fire and ice. Cora's kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and it seemed a challenge to maintain focus on roads which should have been long-familiar to her.

For his own part, Thor felt as though he was primarily biding his time; working hard to keep his growing agitation in check. To a point. Some daggered glances he could not help but throw in his brother's direction; all of which were ignored. Eventually, Loki closed his eyes and seemed intent on ignoring the entire universe.

Thor worked with what he had in trying to decipher the heated exchange he had witnessed in the church. From below, he had seen much and heard almost none of it; but it was not long before Thor found himself constructing a worst-case scenario and, as usual, he struggled to stave off the guilt of not preventing it. _Somehow_.

Fortunately, the trip was short. The words he had for Loki could wait. But not forever.

The little electric car rolled to a stop in front of his apartment. Thor half-expected his brother to have spent the entire ride preparing a few scathing remarks for his departure. Quiet as he had been, it still surprised Thor when Loki left without any comment whatsoever.

Thor lingered for a moment once the door was closed, watching his brother disappear around the back toward the rear entry. Without warning, actually startling him, he felt something cold touch his wrist and, looking down, saw that it was Cora's hand. He traced his way to her face and saw there an expression never before worn by his friend, though admittedly until now their exchanges had only been of a certain type, chiefly focused on their work and seldom breeching anything remotely emotional.

...What he saw on her face was remorse. And it surprised him. In a way, it disturbed him.

 _How well do you know you doctor friend?_ Loki's question from the night before reasserted itself unbidden, almost as if his brother had remotely forced himself into his mind, but it was Thor's own voice that he heard.

When Cora spoke, there was a break in her voice. "Tell him I'm sorry. _Please._ If you think you can."

The request further perplexed Thor; the confusion taking form on his his face as a scowl so deep that it briefly disturbed the circuits of his false eye, sending Cora out of focus.

Loki had already been out of sight for longer than seemed wise in his distemper; but in light of Cora's words, Thor found himself once again reviewing his impression of what had unfolded on the upper tier of the church. Loki had hissed some very cruel-sounding tones and had altered his appearance, and it was easy to assume his intention was to intimidate. And while Thor had considered that his brother might have been responding to some manner of slight, as was fairly often the case, he could not imagine Cora, so poised and mindful, had actually done something to deserve it. Though… it was true that she and his brother had had their near misses at the coffee shop. Thor felt a pang of guilt for assuming what might have been far too _much_ of Cora and far too _little_ of Loki.

"What happened?" By the time he asked, Thor was ashamed of himself for taking so long to consider making such a basic inquiry.

She shook her head. "I struck a nerve."

Thor frowned, but he also nodded. His brother had a great deal of nerves to strike. Still, he was not ready to acquiesce to her that she should shoulder all the blame. "Loki ought to have known better than to react like that." In full view of him! But he did not say that part of it. He watched Cora chew on her lip. "You won't say more?"

"I made an unkind comparison," she offered. Her shoulders tensed. A pink bloom had begun to spread across her cheeks, bright enough that Thor felt guilty for pressing. He would feel less guilty about dragging answers out of Loki, though Cora's revelation had altered things. His mood had thawed.

She cleared her throat. "Are we still meeting tonight at the cafe? To discuss what we found? Or didn't find?"

"I will be there. Hopefully not alone."

"I really am sorry. Make sure you tell him."

He nodded soberly.

Thor patted Cora on the hand and stepped out of the car, choosing not to watch her dive off in favor of running after his brother.

The sun had risen, but the sky seemed no less gray. Rain threatened.

There was always the possibility that he would not find Loki were he was expected to be. In truth, it had become the general rule over the centuries. There had been the playful games, of course, the times when being scarce was more about lying in wait with a knife for a surprise attack. They had such fun as children! But Loki was a different kind of unpredictable when his mood turned sour; except for his penchant for vanishing.

Thor sounded his entry into the apartment by loudly clearing the cold air from his chest.

Everything felt like _muck_. Just when things were starting to take a turn for the better and Loki appeared as if he might enjoy something about Earth... And then there was the matter of _whom_ Thor would have to answer to if he really had _lost_ his brother less than twenty-four hours after gaining permission to take him to Norway. Not that Loki was capable of going far. Strange had seen to that.

But to his great relief, Loki was indeed within the apartment. He had returned to his bed, stretched on his belly like a rag doll. His face was hidden from view; just a mop of black hair. He looked far more pathetic than Thor expected. Norns, what had Cora said

"Brother," said Loki, his voice muffled by fabric, "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not."

Of course, Thor had not yet uttered a word. He glared so intensely that he was certain Loki could feel it through the back of his skull. "Cora won't talk about it. You won't talk at all. What am I to think happened?"

"It was nothing," Loki replied. "Don't trouble yourself."

" _Nothing_ warrants all this?"

"It will blow over. I'm just tired."

Thor's scowl deepened, somehow. He did not like for problems to linger, for anger to simmer; he preferred a swift resolution, applying force when necessary, and Loki's moods seldom simply _blew over_. He had learned, however, that his brother responded poorly to a kick in the ass. Winning him over required patience, usually some level of reverse psychology, and in all instances affection. The last element was the easiest, it was the first two that had never been in Thor's wheelhouse. Nor was memory, as he had already forgotten to communicate Cora's apology.

Thor clenched his jaw and forced his measured reply. "I hope that it does."

Loki lifted a hand and gave the air a wave. A duplicate figure of himself appeared at the door, placed his hand on the knob, and began to push it closed. "Now, if you'd keep things quiet, I'd like a nap."

"It's still morning-"

The second Loki lifted a finger to his lips. He _shhhh'd_ his brother. And click went the door.

Thor's shoulders dropped. He had at least hoped they had moved beyond Loki's catlike desire to sleep through the day, though comparing him to an animal made it sound far more pleasant than it actually was. Loki had woken so easily that morning. He had been so lively, put an effort into fashion, and had even taken an interest in exploring the stave! All of that progress had fallen apart in a literal instant.

Thor blasted air from his nostrils. _Why_ would Cora have hurt his brother so? The _how_ no longer seemed to matter.

He turned away from the door, but not until he was certain the room had gone completely silent. Perhaps Loki was worse off than he had been willing to accept. It would not have been the first time Thor's hope had blinded him.

* * *

It was several hours later when Loki emerged from the bedroom, well past lunch. Thor had considered preparing a meal for him, out of the leftover turkey, but if Loki refused to eat it would only serve to further depress Thor. He had lost weight in New York, but neither of them spoke of it. So, Thor was nearly sent into shock when Loki all but bounded out of the bedroom with fire in his eyes and announced, "I'm starving! Let's go out."

Thor, who was reclined on the sofa with the television on and a pile of maps at his feet, came to life with a start. "What?"

To top off the surreal nature of the moment, his brother had once again changed his clothing: black shirt over black jeans with a black sweater, the sort the buttoned in the front. A cardigan? As usual, the fabric had been tailored within an inch of its life, which Thor thought highlighted his brother's angular frame in a somewhat unattractive way, but he had lost that argument too many times. Furthermore, his hair was tied in a knot on the back of his head. Loki _never_ wore his hair in such a way and frequently mocked Thor for doing so, when it had been such a length. Loki's long dark waves had become something Thor envied, though he would never admit it.

Loki moved like the wind, which had picked up quite a bit. A storm was brewing to the south of the archipelago. "There's a place I noticed. Hurry up. They stop serving at fifteen - at _three_ o'clock."

Thor followed the trail his brother was blazing out the door and down the stairs. "I suppose I could eat again," he said, trying to make conversation. His brain felt as if he had left it behind on the sofa. "Damn. Wait. I left the television on."

Loki pointed a finger in the air. "Taken care of."

The place turned out to be one called _Godt Brod_ , where Thor had eaten many times. It was no surprise that Loki had picked it out of the rough. Thor had initially thought it stuffy, on trend for the sake of attracting tourists, but the food had proven to be well worth the atmosphere. In fact, it was Cora who had introduced him to the spot. It stood directly beside her cafe.

It was perilously close to the end of the lunch service, but they were given a table. In fact, by the time they were seated, Loki had charmed the waitress into a broad smile, and given every indication that her tip would be ample. Thor felt as if he was observing everything from behind a pane of glass. Who was this character sitting across from him and what had he done with Loki? Or better, what had prompted his long-absent brother to finally come out of the woodwork and cast aside the sad creature who had been playing the part so many months?

Loki did not need to look at the menu. He knew exactly what he wanted. He ordered a smoked fish platter for them to split and glasses of hard cider. Thor did not protest. The meal sounded fine. And he hardly knew what to say about anything that was happening, anyway.

The place was half-empty and once the server departed, the brothers were left in a rather secluded corner. Loki unfolded his napkin, pausing to momentarily rub at what looked to be a streak of dark blue ink on his thumb.

"You seem… refreshed," said Thor.

"Hm?" Loki looked up. "Yes. Well, what do they say? _Naps beyond measure are man's greatest treasure._ "

"Who says that?"

"It's a saying. Humans say it."

"Not once have I heard-"

Their server returned with a bottle of sparkling water and filled two glasses before disappearing again. Thor watched as Loki took an eager drink. He lifted his own glass to his lips, holding it for a moment and thoughtfully sucking on the back of his tongue. The spot of ink on Loki's thumb was one of many, now that he had a good view. Just what had he been doing in that bedroom? Writing in a diary?

Well, that was indeed possible. But it was unlike Loki to be sloppy. And for Loki to make an appearance without polishing every edge typically meant one of two things: one, he was depressed - but that did not presently seem to be the case; two, he had found something exciting enough that it was worthy of distraction.

The server returned with their amber-colored beverages.

Thor straightened up, pulling in a breath. If Loki _truly_ wanted Thor not to question anything about what was happening, then he would have brushed his hair and scrubbed his hands clean and he would not have burst from the bedroom like a demon out of Hel.

No, Loki was smart, but Thor was not stupid.

"You changed your clothes." Thor's tone was more accusatory than he would have liked, but on second thought it served its purpose.

Loki shrugged. A faint smile tugged at his thin lips, as if he was pleased with how the conversation was starting. "This is more comfortable."

"Why are your hands dirty?"

His brother did not respond. His eyes shifted merrily to the side. Thor felt his stomach lurch. He leaned forward across the table. Anyone looking would have noticed an actual spark flash at the center of Thor's left eye. "Loki," he whispered harshly. _"Where. Have. You. Been?"_

Loki's tongue shot out between his lips, which parted to reveal a the most mischievous of all his smiles. "Alright, here it is," he said, matching Thor's low tone. He leaned in the rest of the way, so that the brothers were nose-to-nose. "I went to Trondheim."

Thor's brows knit. Trondheim?

"To the Norwegian University of Science and Technology. To the museum."

"Why?" As quickly as he had uttered the question, his face fell. "Loki, no. _Why?_ "

"You won't believe what I've learned about Dr. Eriksen."

Thor drew back his head. Had his brother's paranoia obtained some sort of actual result? Yet, Thor could not subdue his curiosity as it lurched forward; all but causing an out-of-body experience.

There was something about his conversation with Cora after the incident - he could not put his finger on what it was, exactly - that still sat in his stomach like a stone. She had expressed apology, but what he had seen was _remorse_. There was a depth of feeling, of sadness, that did not match an argument which had been less than a minute long. And now that Thor was thinking about it all over again, he wondered if he had not witnessed the same faraway look in Cora's eyes at other times, as well.

At last, Thor nodded as if giving Loki his blessing to continue, which in a way, he was. It would have been just as easy to refuse his brother's intel. Or could have been. He wished that it was, but in truth, it wasn't. Thor had no choice but to hear him out. "What did you find?"

Loki flicked his wrist. In the palm of his hand, a piece of paper took form, not an illusion, but something physical. It was a photograph, something common in Midgard. He slid it across the table to Thor, who looked down with ever-growing dread; in part because more than anything else, his brother had just produced proof that he was a fool not to have believed him sooner.

The picture appeared to have been taken outdoors in a park setting. Everyone was bundled up warmly and there were patches of snow on the ground. The entire image was tinted yellow with age, made all the worse by the fact that everyone was wearing shades of brown that even he knew to be ugly. It appeared to be something like a company photograph, taken during an outdoor excursion or party activity. Everyone wore a bright smile. He picked out Cora right away.

Her hair was much longer, pulled to either side in a braid. The blonde was still blonde, but more yellow, less platinum, although it may have been a quality of the aging paper. Other than that, she looked quite the same.

Thor lifted his eyes to Loki. "I… I don't understand. What am I looking at?"

"Turn it over."

Thor did. On the back of the paper was a number. 1,972. Or... no, this was a date. The _year_ was 1972.

Nineteen. Seventy. Two.

"Shit. Are you… Is this… Is this real? Loki, do you swear that this isn't some sort of trick?"

"No trick, brother," he replied. His face had grown serious, too. If he was still taking pleasure in his discovery and Thor's reaction, he had at least chosen not to gloat, which frankly only increased Thor's anxiety. "That photograph was taken over forty-five years ago."

"Cora isn't… She can't be so old. It isn't possible."

"I agree," sighed Loki. "It isn't. And yet, she is in this photograph. And I spoke with someone who was there at the time, who remembered Cora well. This woman."

He reached out and pointed to someone standing in the back, at a woman who was roughly mid-thirties - though ages had become arbitrary - with a plump figure and a bright, cheerful face. An honest face. "Who is she?" he asked.

"Her name is Ida Berg. She worked with Dr. Eriksen back then and she is still there, now. Only she looks much, much older."

Thor reached for his cider and drank it like it was water.

"Loki," he said, after the final swallow. "I don't understand what this could possibly mean. Except for… the obvious." That Cora was old. But what did being old mean? What kept her looking young?

Had his stumbling into her coffee shop been random at all? Why was she so keen to search the churches with him? Suddenly, the implications seemed endless and Thor experienced a wave of vertigo. He placed the photograph on the table, positioning it so that each pair of eyes was looking up at Loki. "I need you to tell me everything you know."

The God of Stories leaned in toward his brother. He opened his mouth and took a sip from his glass before the tale began. "All right. Here it is."


	6. Detektiv

I managed to make a major error in posting the previous chapter, Chapter 5 - Fotografiet, which I corrected _pretty_ quickly, but there is still a good chance I confused people. I uploaded the doc text for Chapter 3 by mistake, so you got a repeat chapter. I fixed it, but you may want to go back to Chapter 5 to make sure you saw the correct chapter before reading Chapter 6. Sorry!

* * *

Loki was not ten words into his tale when their platter of smoked fish arrived. The plate was heavy with glistening salmon, cream cheese, cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, dark brown bread... But Thor's stomach turned at the idea of putting anything into it.

Loki eyed the late lunch hungrily; a look which was fairly out of character. He truly must have depleted himself, whatever mischief he had been up to. "You don't mind if I eat while I talk?" he asked, already reaching for the food.

Thor gestured that Loki could do whatever he needed to do and, while his brother constructed his first bite, took the time to circle his eyes around the ultra-modern restaurant. It was almost completely empty by now. Ambient music filled his ears. Good. Their conversation required privacy.

Thor's eyes ultimately came to rest on the wall behind him, the wall shared with Cora's cafe. He could imagine her on the other side, sitting at her counter, reading, as he so often found her upon entering. Or maybe she was fiddling with the _Rubik's Cube_ she kept on hand. Minutes ago, Thor could have thought of these things with completely neutrality, they were memories without meaning, except being vaguely pleasant, but now the images seemed false, a hollow pretense; his concept of Cora was in pieces.

He turned back to Loki, who was picking at capers. The knotted bun on the back of his head made him look like more of a hipster than Thor had ever dared.

"Could you hurry it up a bit?"

Loki nodded; his apologetic expression sincere. He pushed a cucumber topped with fish into his mouth and swallowed. "Here's what happened..."

"I had decided I was going to go to Trondheim during the ride back from the church, but I admit, I wasn't very hopeful that I would find anything. I'd never been there before; I wasn't sure where I would begin. But while you and Cora were focused on the road, I sent myself ahead to the university, to do some recognizance."

"You _were_ being very quiet."

"It takes a _bit_ more concentration to maintain a projection while you're seated in a moving vehicle." Loki pinched his index finger and thumb together. "I knew I had about an hour to locate someone who knew Dr. Eriksen or find some memento of her time there. I think it must be a habit of schools to hang photographs and leave them up for years on end-"

Thor interrupted. "So she _is_ Dr. Cora Eriksen? That much is true?"

"Yes," nodded Loki. "That is factual. I would go so far as to say that everything she said yesterday appears to be the truth."

"I only remember her talking about leaving her job at the university."

"Yes," Loki deftly pieced together another morsel of food, using a delicate touch more suited to an intensive craft than luncheon. "She said as little as possible. Has she told you more in the past?"

"Not much," admitted Thor. He shrugged. "Nothing worth mentioning. I know that… I _think_ that she spent time in England. There's the accent. That's real, I assume."

"It's a strange accent, isn't it?" Loki muse. "Perhaps we've spent too much time in the United States. It's the same language, but every word out of an Englishman's mouth sounds like it's achieved self-awareness."

"It is off-putting at times," agreed Thor. "Back to what were you saying about photographs? Did you find this-" He tapped the one Loki had brought, with Cora circa 1972, looking just as she did in the present day. "-hanging on a wall?"

Loki shook his head, ate the miniature piece of art he had constructed, and continued.

"No, but I found a different photograph with her in it. It was formal, either a class picture or something from a project. No date, but there were names printed on the bottom. I committed them to memory and it was about then when we all arrived at Seine. I went to the apartment and once you left me to nap, I dug up my cellular phone and Googled the names. Out of all of them, only one was still employed by the university: Dr. Ida Berg; the same woman who is in the photo I showed you. She is currently seventy-seven years old."

Thor felt his shoulders strike the back of his chair. More than that, he felt his body deflate like a leaking balloon. Many times he had placed Mjölnir on someone's chest to hold them in place, doing the job of a paperweight. The sensation of his lungs emptying out all of their air must have been similar. His ribs began to ache.

He did not say anything because he could not speak, and so Loki went on.

"Once you left me in the bedroom, I went back to Trondheim, this time physically. Now, I knew I was looking for this Dr. Berg, but I could not find an up-to-date photograph on either the University website or on the Google search engine. I thought I was still looking for a relatively young woman. It did not occur to me that the photograph on the wall had been taken so long ago."

"How could it, I suppose…" breathed Thor, shaking his head.

"I wasn't sure how I would get any information out of her, so I planned a heartfelt appeal. If you let someone believe they are assisting in matters of true love, they are usually eager to help.

"You've lost me," said Thor.

Loki gave Thor the same look he always did when he struggled to keep up with one of his stories, half-rolling his eyes. "I posed as a suitor."

Thor looked as though he was doing calculations in his head, though he was half-glaring at Loki, as well. He did not like it when Loki looked at him as though he was stupid. Had the moment felt less serious, he would have argued on the spot that his brother's mind was too abstract for _anyone_ to keep the same pace, and that Loki was not ahead in the race so much as he was running on a different track entirely. But he did not say those things. He had only received half an eye roll, which earned half a glare, and the transaction ended there.

"You posed as _suitor_ to _Cora_?" He needed to clarify that much.

"That was the plan," said Loki. "I constructed this story where she and I had met on vacation in Amsterdam a few years prior and had a wild affair, made promises to each other, but then I had to take care of my ailing father and we lost contact. But now, here I was, come all the way to the University to declare my undying love. I had a bouquet of roses. Honestly, Thor, _why_ are you looking at me that way?"

Loki came to an abrupt halt and Thor realized it was now he whose face was contorted to express… Honestly, he had no concept of how he must have looked, only that it apparently rubbed Loki the wrong way. If anything, Thor was vaguely amused by some of the elements in the persona his brother had created, particularly the part about caring for a sick father, but the rest of him was anxious to get to the end of the tale. He wanted real information about Loki's discovery and he continued to withhold any comment that might take them off-topic.

He shook his head and urged Loki onward.

"I told my tale to the receptionist once I arrived, but she was new and did not seem to know who Dr. Eriksen was. Or she knew her only vaguely. As luck would have it, Dr. Berg arrived while we were talking. The moment I saw her, I knew my lovelorn character was not going to work as well I had hoped."

"Because she was too old and you were suddenly too young," said Thor.

"I didn't know that for certain, but call it a hunch. How could I really understand what was happening? I didn't know what to look for in the photograph on the wall, I don't know anything about the fashions of Earth's nineteen-seventies. All I knew was that Dr. Berg looked very, _very_ different than I expected."

Loki paused to eat a bit more. Thor, too, at last reached for something to feed himself, because his head had become light.

"Before the receptionist could say too much, I took Dr. Berg aside and gave her the story in a different light. I inquired about Cora until I had enough information so that I could rework the part I was playing. I aged my appearance a bit, too, just enough that Dr. Berg might think it a trick of the lighting that I looked younger in the lobby than I did in her office."

"Sounds like you took advantage of an old lady," commented Thor.

Loki shrugged. "Dr. Berg proved herself to be the perfect foil. She remembered Cora affectionately. The two were dear friends. When I told her how I had come to proclaim my love, and the University was the only place I knew to look, she could not have helped me quickly enough. She gave me information she really should not have shared with a stranger, but humans do the most irrational things when they turn sentimental."

Thor picked up his cider that Loki had ordered and took a sip. It was too sweet for his tastes, but sometimes a drink was a drink, and the idea of Loki pushing the ruse as far as he had needed a bit of alcohol to go down smoothly. Or perhaps it simply embarrassed Thor to realize how all of this drama in Trondheim had gone down without even the slightest awareness on his part.

"So she told you were to reach Cora now. The address was in Seine?" asked Thor.

"No, it's a postal box in a different city."

Thor hummed. He raised a hand to the space between his eyebrows, where it was starting to ache, and gave it a firm rub with his knuckles. "What else did she tell you?"

"Cora and Berg weren't classmates, but they began working at the University at the same, in nineteen-seventy, and they stayed there for several decades. Obviously, Berg is still there. Cora left about five years ago. Suddenly."

"Why suddenly?"

Loki raised his shoulders level with his ears and lowered them again. "Berg implied that she essentially up and left one day, but that it was possibly in the works for some time."

"I would assume it probably due to the fact that everyone was getting old except for her and it was beginning to raise suspicion."

"That would be my guess," said Loki.

Thor cupped his palms against his eyes. The heat of his skin was soothing, as much as anything could be at this point. "But did she say anything about her age and you coming to whisk her off her feet. How old did you look?" He lowered his hands back to the table.

"Compared to Berg, not nearly old enough, but that's an interesting point. I was just getting to that." Loki leaned in and lowered his voice. He tapped the photograph on the table. "While she was looking up Dr. Eriksen's forwarding address, she happened on this photo. It was taken at some sort of picnic. When she found it, Berg had quite the reaction. She pressed her hand to her heart and looked like she might start crying. It was enough for me to ask if she was all right.

 _Out of concern or were you still playing a part,_ Thor wondered. He felt fleeting guilt for the thought, but it was a reflex to probe Loki's motives, like muscle memory, and some wisdom in it. Even if his brother had done this detective work on his behalf, looking out for him in ways that only Loki could conceive and execute, it was all too likely he harbored some personal reasons for looking into Cora's past, as well.

Thor suddenly called to mind Cora's parting words that morning, when she pressed him to convey an apology to his brother. In all the chaos, had forgotten. Perhaps the cider was loosening his mind. But Loki was still talking and he did not interrupt.

"She didn't explain her tears, but she handed me the photograph. I stared at it for a long time. And while I was staring, she said to me, 'I'm so happy that she was finally able to let someone in. And a man like you!' I asked her what she meant. She said something to the effect of calling me tall, dark, and handsome, and that Cora seemed to have a type."

Thor lifted an eyebrow and Cora's apology slipped back out of his mind.

"Now, pretended to take at that, just to see how Berg would take it. I said, 'I hope it was more than just a man of my appearance she was after.' She became very flustered and babbled about some incident or story Cora had told her. Something about there being another man at one point and Cora rejecting him. I think it might have been this one…"

Loki pointed to another figure in the photograph. It was a stout young man, blond and boyish behind a pair of thick glasses. Thor would have called him an inverted image of his brother, even more so than he himself.

"I started to ask about when the photograph was taken, what it was from, all of that. Berg told me that the date was on the back and I turned it over to look at it. That was when she asked me if Cora _looked the same_.

Thor felt a chill move through him.

"I told her that she did, in fact, look much the same. Berg did not look surprised. And I remember with crystal clarity what she said next. 'Eternally youthful, that girl. She looked the same on the day she left as the day she started.' To which I asked, carefully, 'Did she ever say anything that explained why?' Dr. Berg only shook her head at that, so I went on. 'It's fascinating, isn't it?' I said, to which she replied, 'Cora never thought so. It made her very uncomfortable.' I said, 'But isn't it everyone's dream to stay young forever?' And Berg said, 'Not when people hate you for it.'"

Thor knit his brows. "Hate you? I guess that makes sense. You stay young, everyone else grows old." It was probably especially hard for a human woman. Alienating. Lonely, after a while.

He reached for what remained of his cider drink and finished it. His body, however, had already begun to loosen up without his realizing. Loki's intention had been to unearth a scandal, but Cora came off looking less like a perpetrator of some grand scheme and more like some manner of victim. As to _why_ she did not age, they had no answer, and the possibilities were many, but she seemed to have behaved in a rational manner, trying to cut out a normal, even benign existence.

It still did not expunge her for keeping the secret, but Thor found himself wishing it did.

"I'll tell you the truth," said Thor, absentmindedly reaching for hair to twist between his fingers, but it was too short now. His hand clawed at the air around his shoulder. "It isn't as bad as I was expecting."

Loki pulled back his head, appalled. "Not as bad as- _Thor_ , she clearly isn't human, but she's attempted to dupe us into thinking so. Do you _really_ think she did not recognize you the moment you walked into her cafe?"

"I can't say."

"It's possible the cafe itself is a complete illusion. A mousetrap."

Thor looked at his brother incredulously. "If it is, she spends an awful lot of time there, making coffee."

With a flick of the wrist, Loki tossed Thor's rebuttal aside. His face bore a rare flush, as if his irritation literally bringing heat to his skin. Thor knew what would come next. Loki would accuse him of being too trusting, too narrow-minded. And Loki would have been right, for in spite of everything, Thor concluded that he did still care about Cora, even though she very well might not deserve it. Yes, perhaps his brother would be proven right, but he was not apt to call pessimism wisdom. His gut told him that he was not so dense that he would have missed every clue than Cora's intentions were nefarious. Again, Thor recalled her apology in the car, and again he questioned if his brother might have taken something too personally. Cora had seemed to think so.

"Think back," said Loki. "Back to when you first decided to come to Norway. Was there anything out of the ordinary about that? Do you remember a sense that you were being prompted or lured?"

"No, it was all very organic." Thor's words had become firm, for in spite of Loki's story, the facts about Cora had not much increased. All they truly knew was that she did not age. Well, neither did either of them, hardly.

An idea sparked and Thor brightened. "What if it's simply that she is Aesir? This is Norway. She's made our history her field of study. Perhaps one of our people came here, fathered a child… Come, Loki, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Then why not tell us?" Loki pressed. "Surely we would be the ones to tell."

"I don't know," admitted Thor. He reached for another bite from the platter on the table and lapsed back into silent thought. His brain felt reduced to grinding gears once again. Fatigue had set in, his forehead ached; it was likely he needed coffee.

Loki finished his glass of cider, clenching his teeth as it went down less than smoothly, and frowned. "You _do_ know. You just don't want to admit it."

Thor's brow became knot. "Admit to what?" But he had a very good idea of what would be the next words out of Loki's mouth. The time had come. His brother was occasionally _very_ predictable.

"That you made an error in judgment. You don't want to believe the worst so you assume the best. It's how you deal with every problem. Or don't deal." Loki sat back and folded his arms with a huff. "Really, Thor… Will you _ever_ learn?"

Thor regarded his brother in silence, his mind roused by the accusation. He debated with himself what he ought to say, decided against it, and then took the risk anyway. "Do you mean when will I learn to distrust everyone so that I might not be hurt when they disappoint me? I swear, you are the most cynical creature alive."

Loki's attention spun away from the table, his eyes finding insignificant spot on the wall beside them and lingering. He sucked his cheeks deeply into his mouth, bore down down with his teeth, and for whatever reason chose that moment to pull out his knotted hair and let it cascade down the back of his neck.

It brought on a sinking sensation in Thor's gut.

He did not want to fight. "I'm sorry. It's just that you are in such a fit about proving Cora to be some kind of devil."

"Yes, well," said Loki. He pried his eyes from the wall and went back to work constructing canapés of smoked salmon. "I'm not doing it for myself."

And there it was.

Thor watched his brother attempt to craft the illusion that he had not lost his appetite. He sighed deeply through his nose. Loki made a similar sound at the same time. Were their positions reversed, Thor knew he would have felt exactly as Loki did: frustrated, sidelined, thwarted. The ways Loki showed Thor love were so peculiar to him - they were peculiar _full stop_ \- but for all the claims Loki made to despising sentiment, Thor had never known someone capable of loving so recklessly. Except, perhaps, for Thor himself.

"You have a point," Thor conceded.

Loki did not lift his eyes from the platter, though he was not doing anything especially decisive with it. "Of course I have a point," he said coolly. The shields had gone back up.

"No, I mean it," pressed Thor. "You are right. Cora would not have kept these secrets from us, knowing who we are, given the nature of the work we are doing, unless she had reason to. And that reason might very well be something ill. I should not assume the best of her, just because I want to."

"We need to tell her what we've dug up," said Loki, shifting back into pragmatism now that Thor had dropped the opposition. That he referred to them as a team might have been a slip of the tongue, or it might have been meant to draw his brother in deeper, but it was not lost on Thor.

"We do," Thor agreed. "We are supposed to go over tonight, once she closes the cafe. We'll have to bring it up then."

Loki's head snapped up. "I'm sorry, why are we waiting?"

"I… I don't see the point in changing the time. We could spend it thinking over how to approach her." Ever the war strategist.

But Loki was a strategist in his own right. "It would be smarter to catch her off-guard."

"I think showing her this photograph at any time is going to put the element of surprise firmly on our side," said Thor.

"But we are right next to the cafe," argued Loki. "Why waste time? You're still assuming that we have time to waste. You are hesitant because you still think her to be your friend."

It seemed they were immediately falling back on the same personal attacks as before. "Loki, if I am willing to admit you may be right, I would appreciate it if you could think better of my judgment, as well." But Thor suspected the appeal would gain him little ground. When Loki was convinced, he could be the most hard-headed person in all of… At one time, it would have been merely Asgard, but their scope of the cosmos had grown. It seemed plausible that Loki was capable of out-stubborning the universe.

So it genuinely shocked him when Loki gave up the fight. He blinked and nodded slowly, straightening his back against his chair. "Fine. We will proceed as if nothing has changed and wait until when we planned to meet her."

Thor blinked and swallowed. His stomach had gone back to feeling like a collection of knotted coils. And then, in a flash, his hand jumped across the table. He reached for his brother's wrist. His fingers passed through Loki's flesh like a vapor. "No…"

"You'll thank me later," said Loki. The projection vanished.

Thor leapt up on unsteady feet, knocking over his chair and nearly the table, as well. The space around him tilted violently as he spun toward the door, catching brief sight of his brother pass a window, soldiering with brash determination in the direction of Cora's coffee shop, his black attire like a storm pushing through the backdrop of the gray October sky.


	7. Stormen

The wind nipped at Loki's face as though it had real teeth. All day, it had threatened rain. Whether the sky was at last turning black due to the polar night above the arctic circle or because the storm had finally arrived, he did not know. It could not have been farther from his concerns. What was a little rain? He would be inside soon enough.

The restaurant where he had taken lunch with Thor was directly adjacent to Dr. Eriksen's coffee cafe.. Honey-colored light from her windows blended into the thick, sooty atmosphere of the darkening sky, and the storefront typeface sign flipped back and forth, cutting the wind with a repetitive clatter, until the shop name itself became an onomatopoeia: kaffepause, kaffepause, kaffepause. It was like someone snapping to get his attention, someone Loki was determined to ignore. He reached the door. And now came the moment when Thor's shouting would assert itself above it all. His brother was quick, and his appeal to what he believed to be reason, inevitable.

"Loki! Wait!"

Perfectly on time. The corner of Loki's mouth twitched. It was always possible that Thor might have been upon him before reaching the Dr. Eriksen, which was why he left to his brother the duty of paying for their meal, and bought for himself those critical few seconds. Thor had the reliability of a clock and the moralism of a human. It was endlessly useful.

Loki's fingertips hovered above the doorknob, but his hand had not yet grasped it. He looked toward his brother, who was closing in with haste, and wondered if the storm was something he was calling down himself. When Loki turned the knob, would a bolt strike? It might. But he twisted it anyway.

The cafe was empty, except for Dr. Eriksen, of course. She was stacking clean glasses and mugs, as if preparing to close for the day, even though, in spite of the sun's early disappearance, there were hours left to go. The pastry case was already cleared and the ambient music was off, making the cozy cafe oddly desolate.

She looked at Loki as if he was the last person on the planet that she expected to see, and undoubtedly he was. Surprise drew blankly across her face, but whether it would break with a smile or frown would not be seen, for at that moment Thor entered the cafe, and Dr. Eriksen's confusion began all over again.

"You're super early." She finished stacking a neat tower of ceramic espresso cups. "I thought maybe you'd wait until the storm had passed. It's supposed to be terrible. I was about to batten down the hatches."

Thor moved past Loki, pushing his bulky shoulder against his brother's arm in attempt to throw him off-balance, supersede his presence, something like that. It did not faze Loki to step aside, and he did so neatly. He expected Thor's anger, but it would not last, not when there were more pressing matters. Everything was in motion, everyone was in place. Even Thor.

"We were eating next door," said Loki, to which Dr. Eriksen nodded. "It made more sense to come here than to walk home."

Thor looked back and gave Loki a severe glare. Loki lifted his brows. Where is the lie?

His brother would come around quickly, Loki was certain; he was certain about all of this. He felt it in his marrow. Thor simply needed a push to play by someone else's rulebook now and again, or learn to throw the book out entirely. At the very least, if he could stop trying to curtail everyone's whims to his own, they would have a much more harmonious relationship.

But his heart was forever in the right place, exactly where Loki expected to find it, and the coals in Thor's started to cool. Well, technically it was only the one eye, was it not? The false one was a convincing piece of artistry. He once asked his brother how he happened upon it and Thor fed him some nonsense about a rabbit smuggling it in his ass, and Loki stopped asking questions after that.

Thor was giving him the pained look, now. It was so difficult relinquish control, even a bit of it.

Come now, Brother, urged Loki with a tilt of his head.

Thor dropped his shoulders.

Their eyes moved, in unison, toward the photograph peeking from the pocket of Thor's denim jacket, and met again. Thor gave the slightest of nods.

Loki released a breath he had not been aware of holding.

"Yes," said Thor, turning back to face the barista counter. "We were eating next door. There wasn't much point in going home."

"Okay," said Dr. Eriksen, who had made herself oblivious to the brothers' wordless exchange by ducking beneath the counter awhile. It seemed there was endless busy work for her to find when she needed it. Her bright blonde head popped back up. "Sure. Why not? We can start now."

As had become typical in the short time of knowing her, there existed a disparity between word and action. She took a towel and dried her hands, using more time than was necessary, quite obviously - to Loki, at any rate, and now likely to Thor - stalling. She was too perceptive to be oblivious to the brothers' disquiet, their drawn faces. Her movements became tense. She carried her anxiety most prominently in her fingers, either by fidgeting or locking them around whatever might be handy: a coffee mug, a steering wheel, the railing of a catwalk.

Loki caught a fleeting glance in his direction, her large eyes flicking as if to size him up, but he was better than her when it came to setting his face like a mask. She would get no read from him.

"Actually, Cora," said Thor. "We came here early so that we could talk with you about something… unrelated." He was doing the footwork for the both of them, just as Loki knew he would. Thor always assumed himself to be the one in charge, even now when it was clear he did not particularly want it. Loki had to hand it to him; his brother was brave. Occasionally, it was admirable.

"Oh?" said Dr. Eriksen. It was a word she uttered often, though less a word than a sound; it was a musical note. A buttery Oh, to acknowledge a fresh idea. A staccato Oh! to sound her surprise. But depending on where the vowel landed in her throat, it had to potential to betray the feelings she worked so diligently to hide, divulging her pleasure, annoyance, or trepidation, without her consent. This Oh? trembled in her throat, audibly enough for anyone to pick up on, even Thor. Even herself.

She cleared her throat, as if to start over. "What unrelated thing?"

Thor glanced once more at Loki. Had she some idea of her precarious position? Surely she sensed the tension in the room, most of which came from Thor himself. He was visibly in distress, and yet clearly just as determined to press through until they found themselves on the other side, wherever they might land. His hand moved toward the photograph, their evidence.

Loki frowned.

Something felt off. Thor was exactly where he wanted him to be, doing exactly what he wanted him to do, and yet, Loki's gut twisted at the sight of him actually doing it, as though he was observing something grotesque. Once he pulled the photograph from his pocket, Dr. Eriksen's reaction would be set in motion, yet it was Loki who cringed.

There was no time to process much about what stirred him. His thoughts came in snippets, incomplete, but charged with instinct and emotion. Thor might have planted more seeds of doubt than he realized. Loki did not much care about injuring Dr. Eriksen, but he knew Thor was still holding on to hope that she might come through unscathed.

Yet, in spite of his misgivings, he was following Loki's lead, trusting his judgment. At this crucial juncture, with his search for the relic at stake, Thor was chosing him for the sake of the brotherhood they shared, that they were finally learning to cultivate. Their brotherhood was all they truly possessed, all that remained of their Asgard. The Exiled King and the Fallen Prince.

Loki stepped forward.

He made a quick motion with his hand and the photograph disappeared from Thor's denim jacket, and with a second gesture behind his back, Loki looked as if he was drawing the paper from his own pocket. If Dr. Eriksen was going to witness anyone betray her, it did far less damage to Thor for it to be himself.

"This," said Loki, taking a step to close the space between himself and the counter, holding his evidence before him. "I came upon this photograph."

Dr. Eriksen looked at him blankly, her brows falling slowly, until their weight seemed to press her gaze down, as well.

He pushed the paper toward her. "If you would be so kind as to explain this to us."

Her hands clenched and unclenched fistfuls of her wool sweater. Loki had noticed on more than one occasion that she did this when her palms went clammy, before she had to touch something and give her anxiety away. He placed the photograph on the countertop. She reached forward and made contact with the faces on the image, the heat from her fingers instantly creating clouds of moisture on the glossy finish.

"How did you find this?" she asked.

So there was no be no immediate rebuke. Loki had not been certain what Dr. Eriksen's first reaction would be, other than shock. But like on the catwalk, she when she was caught, and she smartly knew there was no sense pretending otherwise.

"I went to Trondheim," answered Loki.

"How?" When she moved, there was a detectable wobble. Loki surmised that she had answered her own question as quickly as she asked. "Why?"

"I went because I wanted to find someone who knew you before you moved to Seine."

The color was completely drained from Dr. Eriksen's face. She was ashen, as if she might become ill. For all her constant apprehension, and the little tricks she employed to stave off Loki's attention, he had still managed to take her by surprise. But there was little satisfaction in it. She ought to have expected things to unfold similarly to this, he thought. She had done her research on him, had she not? This was merely returning the effort.

She drew a sharp breath through her nose. "Did I really hurt your pride so much that you… you felt this need to spy on me?"

Loki flinched. The reminder of what she had blurted out on the catwalk, the comparison to Thor, stung more than he wanted to acknowledge. He owed it up to old habits, they died hard, and he straightened his stance. "No, I did it because… I already told you. It was clear to me that you were withholding information. I had no idea I would uncover a secret such as this. How could I?" He gestured broadly at the photograph, which was still face-up on the counter, with the yellowing faces smiling up at them.

Dr. Eriksen's lifted her eyebrows high. "We met yesterday and you figured it out as quickly as that?"

"Perhaps you're not as good at guarding your mind as you seem to think you are."

"In a day!"

"As a matter of fact, yes!"

Thor inserted himself into the growing din, literally thrusting a hand forward, creating a barrier. The gesture was a tad excessive. Loki rolled his eyes. But he took advantage of the opportunity to crack his neck and dispel the building tension. He had lost his composure, but it would not happen again.

"Try to understand, Loki is perceptive. I admit, more than I," said Thor. "I was not happy to hear what he did, but I think he ultimately acted rightly in looking into your past, given the nature of what I have been trying to find. And who I am."

"That's a nice way of saying he got under your skin and you decided you couldn't trust me."

Loki clenched his jaw. Thor would not like that. Perhaps Dr. Eriksen had not intended to truly strike a nerve, but he could sense his brother bristling at the idea that he could be led around by the nose. In Thor's defence, it was not so true these days. Loki had to put greater and greater effort into tricking his brother.

Thor sighed heavily, regaining his composure. "I want to trust you. I do."

Dr. Eriksen pursed her lips. Loki focused all his attention on the subtleties of her reaction to Thor's plea. Thin veins had appeared at the corners of her eyes, the lids themselves were lined with red. This was betrayal, not merely anger. Loki folded her appearance into his mind.

"When did he tell you?" she asked

"While we were next door," answered Thor.

Dr. Eriksen's shoulders rose and fell. For a few moments, she appeared completely lost in thought, and when she finally spoke her voice was dreamlike, thin. "I think I would have told you, eventually. I guess I thought I had more time." She glanced down at the photograph with her eyes alone and shook her head. "You want answers about me? I don't have them. I don't have anything to tell you. I was born, I grew a little older, and I've never died. It's not the easiest thing to talk about."

Her words hung in the air. Loki narrowed his eyes.

"How old are you?" asked Thor.

"One-hundred-thirty-five this year," she said, looking for a moment that she attempted to smile. "Not as old as you probably expected. A kid compared to you."

Thor likewise attempted to chuckle, but it was not a sound Loki would call natural. "Are you human?"

"I have no idea." She shrugged, swallowing audibly. Her fingertips traced the faces on the glossy paper. The other hand moved to her face, gliding a knuckle across her lower eyelid. "I had normal parents. They died. I had… I had a lot of things, once. It was terrifying when I realized there had to be something wrong with me. You think you're like everyone else, because there's no reason not to think that, and then it… it slices through you realize you're completely different. Maybe I am still human, but I don't know."

Loki felt his body go cold. And then it began to heat up, as if a furnace had been lit.

It was like watching something on television, the way it played out in his mind.

The younger version of himself, the literal final moments of his youth; his hands reaching toward Casket of Ancient Winters; his soul in a state of panic, but he had to know, he had to know, he had to know...

With sheer force of will, Loki tore himself from the claws of the painful memory, relieved that no one else in the room seemed to have noticed that his mind had traveled so far from the cafe. He was back, now; he still had work to do. He would leave the sentiment to Thor.

Loki tilted his head to see which of the people in the photograph Dr. Eriksen's fingers lingered on the longest. It came as no surprise that it was Dr. Breg. It was easy enough to piece together who had given her secrets away.

"Damn old fool," she murmured, affectionately, before lifting her eyes. "I guess the three of us are on the same page, now. I still don't know what I did that was so obvious."

"Well, to start, you never look me in the eye," said Loki. He had a role to keep playing in this. And they were not all on the same page.

He heard Thor utter his name in a low, warning tone. No doubt he was beginning to feel that they were pushing things too far, but in reality they were just starting to get the answers they required. Sometimes it had to hurt. Loki knew the pressure points to hit. He knew them as well as he knew himself.

A splash of pink returned to Dr. Eriksen's face. "That's not…" But she abandoned the protest as quickly as she started, biting down hard on her lip.

"At first, I thought you were frightened of me, but…" Loki closed in, physically. His hips met the edge of the countertop, forcing Dr. Eriksen to crane her neck and look up at him. She was not going to shy away now that he had called her out, and he was determined to use it to his advantage. "That isn't so, now is it?"

"Loki…" repeated Thor, more audibly.

He ignored the warning. The professor at the university had alluded to something peculiar and ominous, something that harkened back to his exchange with Dr. Eriksen on the catwalk, and he wanted information.

"Your friend, Dr. Berg, seemed quite taken with my appearance, when we met," he continued. "Perhaps you could explain why she was so happy you had found a tall man with dark hair-"

"She said what? She shouldn't have said anything," protested Dr. Eriksen. "I can't believe she even remembers."

"I'd like to know what she meant by it."

"It was a joke between us. It was stupid."

He stole a glance at his Thor, who had given up his attempts to shut the questioning down and now seemed interested to see where Loki was headed. "If it's just a joke, then why not tell me? I love a good joke."

Dr. Eriksen held his gaze without recoiling. It was much like being on the second level of the stave, when she refused to back away from his transformation into his Asgardian ceremonial attire. She had gone completely white then, but she had not run. She had her moments of bravery, impressive ones, once the curtain was pulled back, Loki would grant her that.

"Why did it even come up?" she asked, pointedly. It felt like a parry.

Loki dipped his head, as though congratulating her on asking the right question. "I posed as an old flame of yours."

A grim laugh burst from her throat. "Of course you did."

"I had to give Dr. Berg some manner of story."

"You didn't have to do any of this."

Loki's features lost all that remained of their mirth. When he spoke, there was ice in his voice. "No. I really did."

Dr. Eriksen's eyes were completely bloodshot now, but the tears were gone; they were red from the staring alone, from not blinking. She lifted her hands from the counter, the beginnings of a shrug that ran its course through her entire body. It signaled defeat. "I… If you must know…"

She paused, moving a hand to her face, resting her palm against her forehead, as if to take her temperature. Her cheeks had become flushed with color, her jaw so tense that it looked as if it was fighting against the words it tried to form. For decades, her body had been her soldier, a good soldier, but now the general was giving new orders, and it was natural to doubt that the mind knew what it was doing when order was to surrender.

"Ida and I, we liked to joke about this character I once… I had this dream about." Her brow knit. Her hand glided upward and grasped a fistful of her short, fluffy hair. "Maybe it wasn't a dream. We joked about it for so long, I'm sure what it was, now."

Loki scowled. He suspected, to some degree… No, he did not know what he had expected. His surroundings felt momentarily surreal.

"Are you saying you had a vision?" The question came from Thor.

"Maybe."

"Of Loki?"

Dr. Eriksen shook her head. "I would never get a real look at the man's face."

"It happened more than once?" Loki's skull was beginning to ache from the pressure of the knot in his brow. He extended a finger toward the photograph and landed on the face of the blond-headed, bespectacled man Dr. Berg had indicated when she handed it off to him. Loki had assumed he was a character of some importance, judging by how she had clammed up when he asked questions. "I was under the impression it all had something to do with this man."

Sadness lengthened Dr. Eriksen's features. She released the hold on her hair and it flopped back into place. "As a comparison, to a degree. Filip wanted to… My God, it was so long ago. He and I were friends, but he wanted more, and I wasn't interested. It ended up being a sad mess. It was a hard time for both of us. Ida and I started to talk about the person from the dream, vision, whatever it was. I helped to make us laugh when it was over. And it became like a running joke." She paused. The shadows on her face shifted in several different directions as thoughts and memories played upon her features. "The vision itself wasn't funny."

"What happens in the vision?" asked Loki. His mouth had gone dry. He was apt to believe in visions and he did not like the idea of being in those of someone he had met less than a day prior.

"I've never told anyone except Ida… Oh, God. It… It starts with me walking through a desert, but it's more like a warzone. It's desolate. Just a total wasteland. I'm alone and I'm walking through this… It's like a ruined field. I'm really watching where I'm going, careful about every step. I think there might be mines that I'm trying to avoid."

Dr. Eriksen hesitated for a moment. It may have been that she was struggling to recall the details, but Loki knew the look on her face too well. Words begat memories, and talk was not always healing. She was in pain.

"And there's this loud wind," she went on. "But then I start to hear someone is shouting my name. I look over and there's this figure, this man, running toward me, full speed. I guess he isn't worried about the mines. But the wind is going absolutely wild by that point and his hair is blowing in his face - he has long, black hair, and he's tall. There's another figure behind him, but that one's too far away to make out at all. And then I open my mouth. I think what I'm trying to do is call out his name, but then there's this enormous rush of wind, even worse than before. It drowns everything out. And that's when it ends. I wake up at the same point every time it happens."

Silence filled the room like air rushing into a vacuum.

Loki's tongue had adhered itself to the roof of his mouth. He did not need to look to the side to know the expression he would find on Thor's face, for it would be identical to his own, brow tight and slack-jawed. He looked sideways all the same. Thor's eyes were already there to meet his and they wordlessly asked the other the same question.

Neither one had an answer to offer.

"You think the figure running toward you might be Loki?" Thor's voice carried the same croaking timbre of a machine grinding its gears before it became fully operational, repeating a question he had already asked. There was an credulousness to it that Loki thought he picked up on, as well, which did not appreciate. But he made to comment. His brother took visions seriously, as well; he had seen many. "Like… How was he dressed?"

Dr. Eriksen pressed her lips together before speaking. "Like Loki," she answered, looking for all the Nine Realms like she was admitting it for the first time to herself. "The way he was dressed in the photos from New York. And on the catwalk." She turned sharply to Loki. "That was terrifying, by the way. Thanks so much."

"Wearing his helmet?" asked Thor.

"No, not with the…" She gestured to points just over her head, curving her movements to suggest the horns Loki wore during ceremony and battle. "When you said you were going to bring him, I looked him up, and then when I saw him in person... It's not easy to look someone in the face after you have a dream about them. You can imagine."

Loki had not spoken a word in some time, nor had he moved, aside from a gliding motion he made with his fingers, rolling his thumbs in small circles. It was, perhaps, his only tell when he was ill at ease, but his hands themselves were hidden beneath the outcropping of the counter, hidden from view of the others.

His vision had glazed over with thought, his head turned slightly to the side, but Loki could feel their eyes hot on his face.

He knew not what sense to make of it. He could not picture a himself chasing Dr. Eriksen across a minefield. He did not even want to picture it.

"You don't know that it was me." His words were pure ice as his eyes honed in on her.

"Loki..." said Thor, in that infernal mother-hen tone of his. If his brother wanted not to be disappointed in him, then he would be wise to stop expecting the universe to behave exactly as he would have it.

He turned to Thor with a shrewd twist, like that of a viper. "What? She tells us she had a vision, of me, at this perfect moment in time, when she needs leverage." He laughed. "And you're to believe it without-"

"I'm not a fool, Loki," warned Thor, sounding much more like himself.

"She can't prove any of it!"

Thor ran his hands down the sides of his face, pulling at his jowls. "Can you for once in your life listen to someone tell you the truth and think that they might actually be telling the truth?"

"I don't know, Big Brother. Perhaps if your trust in me lasted for more than a few minutes, I might learn by your example!"

It escalated far too quickly, but it ended there, crashing to halt as Thor rolled his eyes. Loki suspected that his brother must need his afternoon coffee, on which he had become so reliant.

"You're right," said Dr. Eriksen. "I can't prove it isn't just a story. But forgetting for a moment that you pried it out of me, why would I make it up? Why would I want a dickhead like you to have anything to do with it?"

Loki did not have to pull his daggers to run Dr. Eriksen though. He did it with his eyes alone.

"Do you think Ida was making it up, too?" she went on, undeterred by his death-stare. Her tone became mockingly sing-song. "I somehow knew you were going to fly off to Trondheim? So I flew off ahead of you, prepped my friend, and planted the photograph?"

Loki nearly sputtered as he fired back. "Of the two of us, I'm not the one who withheld their identity!"

"No, you have been an unabashed, absolute asshole from the start!"

Loki bit down on hard his tongue, his body sang with much-needed release, and then it just hurt. He would not give her the satisfaction of another word or minute of his time. If she wanted to defend herself, then Thor could stay to listen. Seemed he had made his choice.

He felt sick. The metallic taste of blood filling his mouth made it worse.

Loki pressed his lips into the thinnest of lines as he turned on his heels. Thor had to jump to get out of the way. Through the door's narrow window, he could see that the storm had begun unnoticed by any of them. The ground was already soaked through. He hit the open air and was likewise drenched in a matter of seconds.

The rain was freezing cold. Loki's feet carried him swiftly to the left, but his mind lagged, as though it was still trapped in the cafe. All he could think was how he wanted to put as much space between himself and the damned clattering of the kaffepause sign as quickly he could. He marched. His arms swung forward and backward with each exaggerated step, creating a wide perimeter to enclose his personal space. More than one pedestrian crossed to the other side of the road to get away.

Finally, he turned a corner, and everything began to slow down.

His brain felt utterly numb, so detached that his surroundings felt fuzzy, as if he was not truly there. It did not even occur to him that he could transport himself far away in an instant, though thanks to Stephen Strange his only options were either New York or deeper in to Norway, and he had seen enough of Norway. No, his only thought was to keep his feet moving, pushing against the solid reassurance of the pavement, until he could think again.

Thor's voice did not catch his attention. Nor did the sound of his running down the street.

But his brother's hand on his arm eventually did.

Loki spun around, wrenching his shoulder backward and freeing himself. "What could you possibly want?" he spat.

Thor's hair was dark from the rain, flat and matted to his head. He looked cold. It was cold, even Loki had to admit it. Rain water ran down his brother's nose and cheeks in thick rivulates. Loki imagined that he looked much the same. His throat tightened.

"Where are you going?" asked Thor.

"Obviously nowhere," Loki bit back. "Not without my handler."

Thor reached for the hood of the sweatshirt he was wearing beneath his soaking wet denim. He pulled it up and over his head, shielding his face from the most direct rain. Shadows appeared, sinking into skin and showing off the mild angles he was slowly accumulating with age. And wisdom, perhaps, but Loki did not have time for anything but anger just yet.

"Alright. Come on." With a shrug, Thor started off in the same direction Loki had been traveling.

Loki furrowed his brow, and nearly his entire face, as well. "Come on, where?"

"Back to the apartment?" said Thor, turning back briefly before continuing on. "It's pouring. Don't know where else to go."

Loki did not move. He stood planted and watched Thor lumber away, his massive shoulders tense from the cold. If there was sense to be made of it, Loki's brain may have still been too far behind his body.

But he slowly fell into step beside his brother, still feeling numb, but a bit less so, because of all the places Thor might have decided to go, none of them had been back the cafe. And certainly that meant something.

They turned a corner together and their apartment came into view at the end of the steep row.

"She's right, though," said Thor. "You have been an asshole."

Loki squinted against the rain. "Do you expect me to agree?"

"No. Just wanted you to know that I think so, too."

From the corner of his eye, Loki saw that Thor was smiling in the way he did when he was rather amused with himself. It was enough to make him groan, but the impulse faded before it truly began. His brother's presence befuddled him, but Loki was too disarmed to feel anything except relief.

A beat passed. Loki looked at him directly. "I assume this will this make it harder for you to find your relic."

"Probably," sighed Thor. Lifting one of his stiff, shivering arms, he dropped a hand on the back of Loki's neck, and gave him a single pat before stuffing it back into his pocket. It would have been a well-timed moment to say something to the effect of at least I still have my brother. Or maybe outright asking if Loki was still game to help him, but Thor said nothing more about it.

Loki noted a gentle tightening in his chest, realizing the question would have been rhetorical, anyway.


	8. Hokus Pokus

The storm had done its work quickly. By nightfall, the sky was pristine, like a freshly washed window to the galaxy. The stars seemed beyond count and threads of the aurora danced above the mountains. Noises outside peaked, as fishermen made up for lost time, and once they were done, the town went to sleep early. And although the temperature was well above freezing, the scent of the air was so clean and crisp that one might expect to find a fresh blanket of snow on the ground.

Yes, if you happened to have faith in a sole, benevolent God who was responsible for all good things, as a confounding number of Midgardians still did, it was easy to imagine He was paying the fishing village a visit, setting things right after the violence of the thunder and lighting. But Loki knew better.

It was dawning on eight-thirty. Thor was already in bed, snoring loudly enough to be heard in the living room, where Loki was watching television because he knew not what else to do with himself. Before his confrontation with Dr. Eriksen in the cafe, his mind felt as though it was on fire. Now, he simply felt burnt.

But the coals refused to stop smoking.

He had wanted to dig up the woman's secrets, but instead he had unearthed what felt like a monster, the way it roared in his brain. No longer had he a puzzle to solve, but a dragon of a problem. Her vision .

Loki did not like the idea of people having visions about him. It felt like an unfair advantage. He had gone to the cafe with, as they said on daytime television, the tea, and she had thrown it back at him, turned everything upside down. Vision indeed, Loki wanted to hiss, but he could not summon the gall.

He and Thor had discussed every possible detail of it all, once they changed out of their sopping wet clothing and Thor drank what might well have been a full pot of coffee, judging by the amount of refills to his mug.

There was no yelling, no hard words between them, but their camaraderie had not proved to be much of an advantage. The most useful thing they produced was a list of everything they could think of to cause Dr. Eriksen's condition. To be accurate, it was a compilation of every race in the known universe who aged at a slow rate, or were possibly immortal. Thor remained stuck on the idea that the woman was Aesir, but Loki was reluctant to agree that everything that appeared as though it was of Asgard, always was of Asgard.

Likewise, they came to no long-term conclusion on how to proceed, except that they ought to sleep on it, and explore the next stave on their own. And then Thor went to bed. Or rather, he seemed to have passed out, for the snoring began within minutes. Loki was even certain that Thor had not bothered to change out of his jeans into something suitable for bed, which Loki had done, conjuring for himself cotton "Henley" pajamas in a rich olive-y shade of green.

Comfortable as it was, it did nothing to improve his chances of getting a full night of sleep. How his brother was able to put so much coffee into his body and still manage the sleep of the dead, Loki could not pretend to know, but for the first time in a long while, he was envious of Thor. He wished it came half as easily to turn off his brain and pass out wherever the impulse took hold.

Hence, the television. The attention Loki paid the movie on-screen was hardly enough to make sense of the plot. It had something to do with witchcraft and the solemnity of All Hallows Eve - which fast-approached on the Midgardian calendar - but it appeared to be meant as a jest. Then again, mankind's concept of magic was so laughably narrow, how could they be expected to produce anything other than a comedy?

Whatever the clownish witches were up to, it had become background noise while Loki's mind turned like a millwheel in mud.

What he had was a bad headache. Whether it was from tension or the fact that he had not truly eaten since the lunch, Loki could not guess at this point; everything just hurt. The thought of food while his head throbbed made him doubly nauseous, but his stomach demanded that he put something into it. He and Thor spent what would have been supper discussing and dissecting Dr. Eriksen, picking at leftover turkey, but neither brother had much of an appetite at the time, and Thor had gone to bed shortly thereafter.

In the end, Loki appeased his body with cold cereal. Thor must have gone for groceries at some point while he "napped", for the kitchen was suddenly well-stocked.

He was seated on the floor in front of the television, balancing a bowl of müesli in his lap, forcing spoonfuls into his mouth and hoping he would eventually feel passing well enough to attempt lying down.

But when he closed his eyes, even so much as to blink, all Loki could see was the hellscape of Dr. Eriksen's vision. More than the headache and the roaring of his empty stomach, perhaps what truly prevented his sleep was the fear that the images would come to life in his dreams.

He wanted nothing more than to discredit her, but the harder he worked his brain, the more it seemed like the impulse of a child, the beginnings of a tantrum. Loki, without question, was heavily inclined to subvert the idea that logic was the sole, or every most useful, approach to solving a problem, but he also knew madness by the taste of it. Ignoring Dr. Eriksen's blunt answers to his questions felt akin to demanding supper and then throwing it across the room once it was set on a plate. It fed no one, it furthered nothing. It was tinged with insanity.

But what it might portend, this vision of him chasing her across a war zone, Loki could not begin fathom. He hardly knew the woman.

Hm. And now the witch on the television was singing. Loki had not been aware that he was watching a musical production. "What a strange movie…" he said to himself.

Loki's spoon scraped the bottom of the cereal bowl. There. Finished. At least he had accomplished one thing tonight. The tight band of pain around his head was still there, but his stomach had finally grown quiet. That was half the battle won, was it not? The fog in his brain was somewhat less, enough so that his lips quirked at the silliness on television.

His placed the bowl to the side and, unfolding from the pretzel-like position in which he had been seated for too long a time, pulled his knees against his chest. He draped his arms over them to create a cushion and rested his forehead, tilting from side to side until he felt a stretch down the back of his neck. With a soft moan, Loki found the sweet spot, and pulled against a knot in his shoulder.

Perhaps if he did not move, he could fall asleep like this, wrapped in a ball like a cabbage.

He could still hear Thor snoring. Hel, was it getting louder?

Or had he just heard someone knocking at the door?

Loki lifted his head, listening intently for the noise to repeat itself, but there was nothing. The only sound interrupting the antics on television was the rocky vibration of Thor's very real snoring. A god should not sound like that. There had to be something wrong with him. But no sooner than Loki had convinced himself that the knocking was imaginary, he heard it a second time.

With some difficulty, he uprighted himself and shuffled his bare feet across the cool hardwood floor. He wondered who it could be, visiting so late at night, and then reminded himself that it was not as late as it felt. The polar night played tricks on the mind.

Loki opened the door, realizing fraction of a second beforehand who he would find.

And there she was. Cora Eriksen.

Loki's headache did not vanish, but it abruptly relinquished its exclusive claim to his attention. The two stared at one another, with the woman looking as surprised to see him and he felt to see her, and she gave him a not-so-subtle once over with her eyes.

It dawned on Loki that he probably looked quite the mess. After the rain, he had changed his clothes, but the air had dried the rest of him, and Loki's hair, when left to its own devices, tended to expand. He wished he had realized before opening the door. He would have done something about it, because employing seiðr to flatten it now, while she watched, decried more vanity than he was willing to display. He elected to simply comb it behind his ears.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," repeated Loki, and took a long breath through lips that already hung agape. He glanced across his shoulder, to the closed bedroom door. "Thor is asleep."

He did not know what else to say. Maybe it would send Dr. Eriksen back home.

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. A beat passed. "Can I come in, anyway? You're the one I actually wanted to talk to."

Of course he was.

Loki ran his tongue over his teeth and, with a murmured "All right," stepped aside. She moved quickly into the apartment, as though anticipating that he might change his mind, which would not have been foolish assumption.

Dr. Eriksen was dressed exactly as she had been during the day, with the same charcoal sweater dress and blue stockings and chunky "Doc Martin" boots. There was a long wool coat over it all, which she was in the process of removing before he turned. Her face, however, was...

Well, there was not trace of makeup, to be sure. Loki had noticed she did not wear much to begin with: some winged eyeliner, peachy lipstick; it was subtle. But this ruddy, scrubbed clean look brought out facets of her appearance that made her look almost younger than she had before.

He closed the door and, folding his arms across his chest, turned to regarded Dr. Eriksen from what felt like a good distance. She balled up her coat against her chest. He did not offer to take it.

"So…" Loki wanted to be cold, but it was a chore with the headache, and he ended up sounding fatigued more than anything else. "What was it you came to say, Dr. Eriksen?"

She stared for a moment, and then, shaking her head, sighed. "I came here to apologize and try to explain why I did what I did, and it would help if you didn't make it more difficult than it needs to be."

He stiffened, pulling back his shoulder blades. It irritated the spot that was causing him pain, but it was not do hard to ignore. "Do you really think you deserve-"

"Loki!" She did not quite shout his name, but it came close. Both threw a cautious look at the bedroom door, but Thor continued to snore undisturbed. She went on. There was a raspy quality to her voice that made it sound unnatural, as if was coming down with something, as humans did, though had Loki assumed that being undying also meant she was unlikely to catch a cold. "You wanted me to talk; I'm here to talk. Let me say what I want to say and then I'll go. I promise."

He held up his hands in mock surrender and nodded, and gliding an index finger across his lips, gestured that he would keep his mouth shut. Perhaps she would say something interesting. One did not walk through a soggy fishing village for nothing. He folded his arms again and made a show of waiting.

Dr. Eriksen breathed another sigh. "I didn't come to tell you that you were right for what you did. I hate how you went about everything. I think it was cruel and uncalled for and, honestly, I'm still thinking of ways I'd like to get my revenge."

"Hmm."

The sound earned him a glare. Loki did not feel that he required an apology, he did not actually care, but he wondered how she planned to get around to giving one.

"After you and Thor left the cafe, I went a little crazy. I screamed, I broke things... And then I went home and I just… broke down. You forced me to talk about things I haven't talked about in decades and think about things I never wanted to think about again. And I was so angry at you for it. I don't know if you know what it feels like to have all your painful memories dredged up at the same time, but it was so... rough… that honestly, there were moments I thought I wasn't going to stay sane."

Loki drifted his tongue along the silken interior of his cheek. It would have been easy to cut into her with a sharp retort, because this paltry idea that she had sunk to the depths of pain was laughable. But the words dissolved in his mouth. It would have potentially put her in a position to counter that all suffering was still suffering, and there was enough truth in that to keep Loki silent. She would only see it as taking the moral high ground, not to mention there was the remotest of chances it might lead to commiserating with her, swapping stories about scars, and he had no interest in that whatsoever.

Dr. Eriksen went on.

"But if I was in your position, and I really didn't want to admit this to myself… I would have done the same thing."

At this, Loki could not help but quirk an eyebrow and, at last, respond. "As I recall, you did claim to have done mounds of research on me before my arrival."

Dr. Eriksen clenched her teeth, looking rather annoyed that he was so determined to be, as she and Thor stated, an asshole , but Loki did not care. There were times when being a little shit served a greater purpose, but in this particular instance, he just wanted to hurry things along.

"That is the point I am trying to get to if you would let me. When Thor told me he wanted to bring you here, I looked up everything I could find. I read up on the mythology, the stories about New York, one amazing conspiracy theory about how you were also responsible for a least a dozen historical disasters." She stifled a smile at that. "It's not the equivalent, by the way, of you flying off to the university and posing as my ex-boyfriend to dupe former colleagues into giving out my personal information." She paused and held his stare. "But if had the opportunity and ability to transport myself to New York and pull every file on you in the Avenger's compound, I would have done that, too."

Through the cracked window on the far wall of the kitchen, visible over Dr. Eriksen's shoulder, the sounds of the bay peaked. A small gust of wind moved between the slats of the wooden blinds, bringing out a short, vaguely melodic clatter. Loki shifted his weight and cleared his throat. "All because of the vision? Or was there another reason?"

"You mean, if I was frightened of you?"

Loki did not nod so much as tilt his chin, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Dr. Eriksen responded with a shaking of her head that was just as subtle. Loki felt the tension in his shoulders subside, somewhat. He did not realize he had been holding them so high against his ears.

"Your picture was everywhere after New York. That's when I had to rule out that the dream was just a dream. I'll admit, it was a little hard to accept that it was you after everything… Or it was at the time. Thor explained some of what…" she breathed tightly through her nose, "...what happened to you. Enough for me to understand it wasn't what you expected, after you left Asgard."

Left Asgard? Loki lifted an eyebrow. But Dr. Eriksen looked at him steadily and he knew at once that the circumstances of his leaving were no mystery to her. He closed his eyes and signed. Thor, why?

An endless sea of stars below him, to drown him; a world of gold and majesty above, but so far in the distance that he could hardly see it now...

In releasing his grasp from the Gungnir, the great scepter of Asgardian kings, Loki rejected what promised to centuries of heartache and misery. He would never be capable of trusting his Odin's love - or Odin at all - and at the time, Thor had seemed equally lost to him. Perhaps had his mother been there, it might have given him pause to lift his fingers from the staff, but staring up at the father and son, the true and complete royal line of Asgard, Loki came to realize his own love for himself had run dry, as well. He had lost his family, he never had one to begin with. And his young, naive mind could only conceive one alternative, and he chose the heart-stopping beauty of the universe beneath him, everything that was not Asgard, the open arms of oblivion.

No. He did not - would not - care that Dr. Eriksen knew. What did It matter? It was no great secret to anyone, it seemed, since the bargain had been struck, when he was placed under a microscope. Every facet of his life, his mind, even his body, had been made an open book, either to prove his culpability, or disprove it. It seemed easier to let them diagnose the various stages of his madness, the real and the assumed, so Loki put no stop to it, as much as he was compliant with anything resembling a process; he kept the gears moving, because he owed it Thor. More than that, because he understood now that his brother's love had never been lost, and letting go of the Gungnir might have really been releasing Thor's outstretched hand.

"If you want to call it leaving," she said. His eyebrows were still high.

She chose her words so carefully that Loki's carved stone stare softened, slightly, around the edges. He marveled at what seemed to be a genuine attempt to be compassionate, made all the more earnest by the mere fact that she was not a gentle person by nature. She was poised, deliberate, hard-edged, though he detected it was in part a ruse, a shell of biting retorts and deflections she used to encase herself when she felt too exposed.

Loki caught himself, and everything tightened again. Up went his shoulders.

"Dr. Eriksen, I am responsible for everything I did. Let's not shy from the truth, shall we?" His words were somehow both cold and smoldering at the same time, but Loki never could seem to feel only one way when it came to what had put him on the path to New York. "I imagine Thor told you I wasn't in my right mind, yes?"

"He didn't make it sound quite that simple."

Loki frowned. It caused him far less grief to allow her to imagine whatever and blame whomever she chose. Let her fill in the gaps as she saw fit.

"Do I seem sane to you now?" he asked.

"You seem angry."

"Can't imagine why."

"I'm honestly not trying to upset you."

Dr. Eriksen fingered with a wooden button on her coat. Loki watched her hand work. Her nail polish was chipped. He pictured, for a moment, the scene of her throwing glassware across her little cafe, cheeks flushed red in the warm, glowing light; sweat damping her brow; her short hair flying as she threw herself into this alleged madness. He attempted to amuse himself with the details, exaggerate them and make her pain silly, but it left him feeling hollow, with enough space inside to draw inwardly back on himself, like an unexpected cramp.

"Yes, I am aware that you're not trying to upset me, Dr. Eriksen, but talking about New York isn't something I do. It's..." He paused.

She tilted her head, giving him a look as pointed as it was delicate: intrigued, but wary. Loki's mind began to echo inside his empty self.

That was when all the bits of observation, like fabric, finally stitched themselves together. Her face was not scrubbed clean from washing, he realized, but from crying. Dr. Eriksen's eyes were positively swollen, her lips beestung, too much to be the after effects of a few minutes of scant weeping. She had walked across town, in the cold which ought to have soothed it, and had already stood in the apartment for a good length of time. She should not still look the way that she did... unless Loki allowed himself to believe he had put her through far more profound reckoning than he envisioned.

He swallowed and it felt as though there were stones in his throat. The pain he caused Dr. Eriksen should not have troubled him - Loki had done far worse to closer friends - but it did. He wanted to blame his tiredness, but the truth was that he suddenly felt awake. And for the first time since going to Trondheim, Loki wondered if he had inflicted too much damage on the woman too quickly.

"Do you feel as though you've come back from it?" she asked.

His mind had gone somewhere far away.

"Loki?"

"Has justice been served, do you mean?" The burning in his throat lingered. He tried again to clear it.

"No, I don't mean justice. I don't even know how justice works on that level…" She adjusted some of the folds in her crumpled coat and hugged it to her chest.

He scowled. What did anyone expected him to feel, other than constant anguish and remorse, as if he might not be capable of lifting his body under the weight of it? That he attempted to live at all seemed an affront to their moralist superiority, if one could call what Loki had done for the past year living . He was meant to be in limbo, but there were times when it felt far closer to Hel.

"Do you mean, am I happy?"

"I suppose I just mean how are you , generally speaking?"

Loki laughed bitterly. He could not recall anyone, except perhaps his mother, asking him such things. Not even Thor. He showed concern for Loki's wellbeing many ways, some of them smothering, but never by asking a direct question. Loki did not hold this against him. He was the same. Communication, the verbal sort, was not an Odinson talent. But Thor and he were learning how to read each other in other ways, finally. At one time, they had been quite good at it, speaking volumes to one another with little more an a flick of the eye. It had not been so long ago. Despite the dark years of late, it was more like remembering than learning.

"How am I?" repeated Loki, blinking.

"I get the feeling that you wouldn't have done what you did to me, at least the way you did it, if you weren't already dealing with some serious…"

Dr. Eriksen began to crack under the weight of Loki's heavy stare, but failed to crumble. There was a point she was trying to reach, as she moved carefully from word to word, as though, like in her vision, she was navigating a kind of minefield.

"I don't know anything," she said. "Honestly, I don't. Thor has actually been very respectful of your privacy. It isn't even that I want to pry, but you strike me as someone who... Like I said, I would have done the same thing to you, if I could. Maybe you did what you did because you were already hurting before you came here."

Loki's heart threw itself against the cage of his chest. His folded arms dropped to either side as he pulled in a long a breath, as deep as he could manage, filling his lungs with air, as if more room in the cavity was all he needed to calm what she had set off like a powder keg. It failed.

"My only intention was to help Thor," he asserted, though it sounded unconvincing now, even to him. Loki had never truly had a sole intention about anything in his life.

Dr. Eriksen ran her tongue over her dry lips and nodded. Loki abruptly switched the subject.

"You said you couldn't see the man's face," he said, his voice wavering, perhaps too faintly to be noticed, but it nonetheless made him feel decidedly vulnerable. "The vision. How did you know it was me."

"Well, in my defense, your face in that famous photo was covered by that godawful muzzle, so it wasn't as hard to put together as you might think."

She attempted to smirk. It went nowhere. She shrugged.

"I don't know how, but I recognized you. Part of it was the clothing and the hair, like I said…" Dr. Eriksen paused and shook her head. "I can't explain it. I wish I could. I think you'd be more inclined to believe me if I could."

Loki's clenched and unclenched his hands. Typically, it was a movement suggestive that he was plotting some manner of attack, but in this instance it was more as if he did not know what to do with them. He touched his hips and considered resting them there, but the position felt awkward. Dr. Eriksen's eyelids fluttered as she honed in on his body language.

Finally, he looked in the direction of the ceiling. His heart was still vibrating to the point that the movement made him lightheaded, making his persistent headache all the worse. "I may be more inclined to believe you than I was this afternoon," he said, wanting to head her off at the pass, before she could ask and he had to own up to letting down his guard.

"Really? Why?"

Loki shrugged, tucking his hands back under his arms and pressing firmly. "It isn't that I want to believe the vision."

She gave a brief chuckle. "Now you sound like me."

"I suppose it's mostly that, for all the information you withheld, once you actually begin talking, you strike me as... a fairly honest person." He would concede that much. No more.

Dr. Eriksen drew back her head. The reaction began as something subtle, sincere, and then she took the opportunity to widen her eyes for comedic effect.

Loki smiled in spite of himself. Because he was tired. And he rolled his eyes with the same energy to match hers. "Go on. Don't you have a point you're trying to get to?"

Her silly expression dwindled down to a lopsided smile. "When Thor first showed up, I didn't want to help him, because the connection to you was too close. But you know him, he's tenacious."

Loki snorted. "Obsessive. Pathological."

"He kept coming in with his questions about the churches and the history of the archipelago. He wore me down."

"Yes, he was working me the same way in New York."

"I gave up feeding him excuses, because I liked him and I knew I could help. And I admit I've been away from the university for so long that I was starting to get bored. And there was always…"

Dr. Eriksen abruptly directed her attention to her boots. Loki's throat tightened, again.

She scraped the toe of one boot against the other, a variation on her search for busy work when she needed to ground herself. Loki heard her draw a sharp breath through her nose and, without warning, a shudder coursed through him, leaving him cold and hot at the same time.

She worked her jaw, waiting for the wave of emotion to subside, and slowly regained her footing. "If there there was a chance that getting to know him could help me find answers about myself and what I am, I had to take the risk, even though it meant you would probably show up at some point and the vision, whatever it is, might actually happen. I can't go on not knowing, but that's out of my hands, I guess. I keep going on. I've tested that every possible way; nothing works. I'm stuck here. I wish I could go insane, sometimes. I do. I think I tried to go insane this afternoon. Not to romanticize it, but it would make to so much easier if I was less aware."

"Shit," Loki whispered through his teeth, ducking his head.

Her words reverberated in his aching skull and sunk down, deeper and deeper, through his chest and into his gut. Yearning. Desperation. He was back in Odin's Vault, clenching the Casket of Ancient Winters with fists so tight that he might have snapped the handles. The blue light of the Casket seeped into his skin, cold and searing at the same time, altering the musculature of his body, climbing up his arms and into his neck and finally, his face. He could not see his face, but it had only been a matter of hours since he stared down the Frost Giants, slaughtering them beside his brother. Their visage was stamped in his mind for all time.

The memory broke like a fever and Loki found himself back in the apartment. His vision was blurred. Even the dim lighting of the room was suddenly too bright. Loki blinked until Dr. Eriksen came back into focus, looking at him with a most curious expression, only to have everything cloud up again, leaving him no choice but to dab his eyes in her presence. He continued to curse under his breath, ending with an outburst of choked laughter as embarrassment gave way to admitting to himself that there was no taking it back. He would just have to accept that she had seen tears in his eyes. Those who mistook him from the stoic brother had never bothered to look hard enough. His eyes had betrayed him countless times.

No doubt Dr. Eriksen had made the same error, for she looked as though she had no idea what to do, that she had possibly broken him by unloading too much at once.

"Is it…" Loki regained enough control over his body and cleared his throat. "That you suspect you may be Aesir?"

"That's why I came to Norway," she said, slowly shifting back into conversation, as well. "I came, once I was free, to go to school and follow the only clue I that I had, that my ancestry is from this corner of the world. And I researched and I studied everything I could, trying to find anythingthat might point me in some direction."

"What do you mean, once you were free?" asked Loki. He wondered if it might be too personal a question, all things considered, but still, he asked. Besides, they were well past too personal at this point, were they not?

Dr. Eriksen swallowed. "I just mean that I was free once there was no one left that I had any connection to. I could go wherever I wanted. I wasn't born into a world where it was easy for a woman to come and go as she pleased."

He nodded soberly.

"My life hasn't gone on for centuries, yet, but I've had to start over more than once. I… If you'll forgive me, there are still a few things I'd like to keep to myself. My personal life. You aren't going to go digging again, are you?"

"It's doubtful," said Loki.

"Believe me," she said. "I wish it were easy to talk about everything."

"You aren't alone in that. Not in this room, anyway." Loki took a short breath as his words hung for a moment, like something physical overhead. "So, you came to Norway..."

"My heritage was the only clue I had, but everything turned into a dead end. And then, just when I had about given up, the mythical god Thor Odinson shows up in New Mexico."

She finished with her own choked laugh, wiping under her nose with back of her sleeve, and clumsily dropped her coat. Loki stepped forward to pick it up, but she beat him to it, leaving him to stand awkwardly at a distance that felt too close, though he did not back away. He felt planted to the floor.

Twisting his fingers, Loki produced a silken, gold cloth from what looked like his physical pocket, but was actually from a spot much, much further away. He offered it to her.

She blinked at him. "I can't blow my nose into that. It's too pretty."

"That's what it's for."

With a shrug, he released it into her hands. She held it as delicately as an uncooked egg before gently touching a corner her eyes.

"Oh, go ahead. Just blow your nose."

Her face flushed as she did so.

"Did you go to New Mexico?" he asked.

She shook her head "No, by the time enough of the story had broken, there wasn't anything left to see. I tried to make contact with the group of astrophysicists he encountered, but never got any response. And then New York happened and I saw you and honestly I... I needed a break."

Both their voices had mellowed to a gentler lilt. Loki was even able to hear her words about New York without bristling. Terror had been his aim then, had it not? He would think about it later. Not now. Not while her face was still swollen and there was some semblance of peace between them, as if passing her the handkerchief had been the beginnings of a truce.

Loki fiddled with his hands for a moment.

He turned and paced off to the side, picking up his empty cereal bowl and bringing it to the sink

"And then everything at the university began to fall apart when I was supposed to have turned sixty-five…" she said

"I can imagine," said Loki.

"I had to start over. Again."

Loki rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and began washing the bowl. The cool water sent much-needed soothing sensations up his arms. For a moment, he did not scrub anything, he just let his hands soak and watched the water run off, taking what felt like his first complete breath in close to an hour. "I suppose you must believe in fate, now. You can't reach Thor, but still he stumbles into your cafe. And me shortly thereafter." He looked over his shoulder with a sly smile, his intent being, quite honestly, to make her laugh. "Me, the man of your dreams."

She did laugh. It pleased Loki to hear it. It was like a thaw in the room.

"Jeez, what can I safely say to that?" she said, her smile lingering. As Loki finished washing the bowl and shut the tap, she cleared her throat. "Do you mind... I could use a drink."

Loki shrugged. "No trouble," he said, turning the tap back on and trying to recall which cabinet had the glasses.

"No, I'm sorry. I meant an actual drink, if there's anything around - before I go back out into the cold. If it isn't too weird to ask."

"Ah."

Loki shut the water off, again, and turned to the island in the center of the kitchen. The previous night, he had discovered a bottle while exploring the apartment. It was tucked into a corner and he suspected it was not very good, given its cakey coating of dust. As he popped up, bottle in hand, Dr. Eriksen's reaction confirmed that it was not a liquor known for its good points. Loki imagined it had been given as a gift, to a previous occupant who predated Thor, and never touched after the first sip.

He twisted hard at the cap and gave the brown liquid inside a sniff. Immediately his nose felt as if someone had plugged it with a lit match. "Hm. Do you enjoy gasoline?"

"I'm willing to drink it if that's all you have. It's freezing out there."

"Oh, you are in a bad way, aren't you?" Loki chuckled. His sense of smell was still recovering when an idea came to mind. "I might have something else… If I can remember where I put it."

Loki placed the bottle to the side and closed his eyes, taking a breath to center himself. His fingers began to draw tiny shapes in the air, and behind his eyelids, the raised circle of his iris moved gently back and forth. And then, with a smile and a a flick of the wrist, there was a shimmer of light, and an exquisite bottle made of purple glass appeared between his palms. It was no bigger than a cask, with an ornate gold cap.

Dr. Eriksen looked as though she had just been shown proof of Santa Claus, or some similar Midgardian nonsense. They also pretended to believe in a giant rabbit with the ability to lay chocolate eggs, as well. Though, ridiculous as it was, Loki considered that character far more charming and would not have minded of it turned out to be real.

Loki removed the cap and, fetching glasses, two of them, from the cabinet, poured some of the liquid into each. It was clear in color and smelled of juniper. She shifted her coat to hold in under one arm and picked up her glass, bringing it straight beneath her nose. "Is it gin? Asgardian gin?

"Similar," said Loki. "But stronger. So, don't drink it as quickly as my brother does."

The liqueur did not have to be cut with anything, as gin typically required. It went down smooth as sweetened tea. Loki had tucked the bottle away so long ago that he forgot to expect the drink's honeyed flavor, and it brought him actual joy to rediscover it. The true name of the liqueur was Juniper Cheer. Memories of autumn in the royal gardens came up for air in the deep waters of his mind. Why the drink was always associated with that time of year, Loki had never asked, but was as tied to falling leaves and strolls at dusk the same way spiced wine was a facet of winter.

He could recall a few of the details of the night when he brought this particular bottle along, with secret plans to meet the daughter of one his mother's ladies, only to find the girl had invited her brother along to chaperone, and the bottle was never opened, tucked away, and mostly forgotten. Loki had never attempted a second meeting with the girl, whose name had also slipped from his memory. However, he had recalled the bottle from time to time and taken the occasional sip, but it had been centuries since the last time.

The memory was fairly amusing now, the idea of him giving up as quickly as that, but in his youth he had been skittish of stories getting back to Odin.

Loki leaned forward against the island, propping himself up on his elbows. He peered into his glass as though, if he looked hard enough, he just might see a familiar face.

"Wow," said Dr. Eriksen, after savoring her introduction to the drink. "This is great."

He lifted his eyes. "Alcohol keeps well, suspended in time."

"Makes perfect sense."

They drifted back into silence as they took their second sips. Dr. Eriksen's eyes slowly moved to the side, as though she was losing herself in her own long-forgotten memory. A pleasant one, it seemed, the way a smile bloomed on her face. And then her eyes moved back to Loki.

"Are you watching Hocus Pocus?"

Loki squinted. "What?"

Dr. Eriksen turned and walked briskly into the living area of the space, planting herself before the television. Loki followed, taking a place beside her. The witches had been up to their antics for their entire conversation, it had just been easy to tune out. He took another sip from his glass. "Is that what it's called?"

"It's Halloween movie season," she said. "This is an old children's film."

"Well, I had a headache and it was distracting."

Had a headache. It seemed to be gone. He turned his head from side to side to test the theory. Indeed, the knot in his shoulder had resolved itself, possibly due to the drink, though he could not recall when he stopped paying attention.

"No, it's a classic," she said. "I would have left it on, too."

They stood together, watching the movie as they drank. By this point, there was manic business going on in a graveyard. Loki had no idea what had brought everyone to this point in the story, but the stakes seemed high. There were children being lured to the witches' cottage by a song.

"And this is popular among your little ones?" he asked. He took a step backward and his leg touched the sofa, prompting him to sit down, though it was a little like he briefly lost his balance.

Dr. Eriksen nodded.

"But… aren't the witches trying to eat the children?" That he found it disturbing registered distinctly in his voice.

She shrugged, as if to admit that he had a point. "Well, Halloween is Halloween is Halloween."

Dr. Eriksen finished what remained in her glass as the storyline broke in a poorly-timed spot for commercials. She moved as if to hand it off to Loki, thinking he was still beside her, and then clumsily turned to pinpoint where he had ended up. Her eyes kept moving after she spotted him, like someone with a case of vertigo, and she blinked until everything appeared to straighten out once again.

Loki admitted he was feeling the effects of the drink himself, more than he expected, and wondered if he poured them both too much. Misgrdian alcohol forced one to drink far more to reach the same point. Had he gone by the wrong standards?

Ah. Yes, he recalled that the liqueur was meant to be enjoyed in a cordial flute, not a highball. That was probably the issue. There was still plenty left in his glass, but Dr. Eriksen had finished hers.

"You weren't kidding. This is stronger. Er, strong," she said, attempting to place her glass on the coffee table and misjudging the distance, letting go of the thing before it touched the wood and causing a clatter.

Loki pressed his lips together and squinted at her before finishing his glass, too. "You look like you need to sit down."

"I do need to sit down," she replied. She did not, however, move.

Loki regarded her hesitation the way one might regard a clock, watching it tick. He gestured graciously to the other end of the sofa. "You can sit down."

"I was going to walk home."

Loki nodded, sounding a thoughtful hum. He pointed a finger at her. "Why not... sit down until you feel you can walk home?"

Dr. Eriksen nodded emphatically. "That's a good idea."

She circled quickly to the other side of the table and sat on the cushion beside Loki, pushing herself deeply into the corner of the sofa, as if it to support herself from both sides.

"We don't need you falling into the bay," he said.

"Oh God, can you imagine?"

"I can," he replied. "And you don't have to call me by my title unless you're actually praying."

Dr. Eriksen snorted. "I don't know if you realize, you are much less intimidating in your pajamas. Actually… this is probably weird of me to notice, but I'm half-drunk, so bear with me, but I'm sort of shocked to see you have feet."

"Have feet? " Loki's response fell somewhere between bright and alarmed. "In place of what?"

"You're always wearing all the clothes," she replied. "Completely covered. You've even got you sleeves rolled, now. I can see your arms."

He blinked.

"You know what I mean."

"Talk about sizing someone up in a day," he said, a callback to their heated argument in the afternoon, but he was far too entertained and it showed. Loki touched his hands to the center of his chest. "I assure you, I have a complete body under here."

"Forget I brought it up."

"I mean it. Belly button and everything."

Her cheeks went pink as she finally laughed at herself. The commercial break ended and the story resumed, they lapsed back into silent viewing. Loki lifted his legs and stretched them over the coffee table, leaning back. He was not much of a drinker, but after the long day with its downs and ups, he was a wonderful thing to feel relaxed, even if it was chemically induced.

"Would it be too much to ask you call me Cora?" she said, at the start of the next commercial. "Every time you call me Dr. Eriksen, I feel like I'm back in Trondheim. That is, if we're going to keep looking for Thor's relic, working together."

Loki turned toward her. Her face, rather serious, was still pointed at the television. "If you'd prefer that. In my defence, it was how you introduced yourself."

"That was just a bit of fun," she said.

He quirked a smile and turned back to regard a particularly loud commercial, and then, turned back to... Cora. Were they friends, now? "Are you still planning to get revenge on me?"

"If I say no, it'll ruin your belief that I'm an honest person."

Loki wrinkled his nose. "I'll keep my guard up, then."

"I get the feeling it usually is."

He sighed. "It is. It's tiring." Even now. That he was half-serious tinged his playfulness with a few drops of melancholy. Loki would still call himself relaxed, but his mind had come back to life with a tiny spark, and it dawned on him that he was attempting to recall something forgotten.

His eyes pointed toward the kitchen. He pulled his top lip between his teeth and frowned.

And then, Loki realized what it was. He gave Cora a final look, more than a glance, debating with himself over whether he really ought to retrieve what had come to mind. Did he owe her anything more than the symbolic white flag of the handkerchief? Loki still felt rather divided, for her secret had been no small thing to keep. He would have - might have - done things differently, had he the opportunity to do them over, but was it possible to make up for a crime already committed? To that question, his answer had always been a firm no.

He could give her something just for the sake of giving her something. That impulse was far simpler.

"What?" she asked. He had stared too long. Because the drink was making him tired and slow.

Loki rose to his feet. The floor dipped to the side, reminding him that he was, possibly, a bit closer to drunk than he was willing to admit. "I should give you something."

He walked to the kitchen, disappearing behind the barely-there partition that separated the space from the television-viewing area, and reappeared with a piece of paper in his hand. With his free hand, he made a tiny gesture with his fingers. The paper shimmered for a second. Cora lifted her eyebrows high.

"That was just me changing it to a language you could read," he explained.

Cora's befuddled expression remained fixed as he pushed it into her hands.

"What's this?"

"Thor and I compiled a list," he said, returning to the sofa. He sat down beside her, pointing to the words as she read them. "These are the known races who live an inordinate number of years. We wrote it for our own purposes, but…"

Cora moved a hand to her mouth, murmuring the words against her fingertips. She arrived at the bottom of the list and looked at Loki. She was breathless. The intimacy of it all caused his stomach to clench. He had expected her to be happy, but he had not given thought to what it would be like to watch someone fill with joy to the point of near bursting. Had he any experience to relate to this glow he had brought to her eyes? Had he truly put it there himself?

"You were right," he said, nodding. "We can help you figure out what you are. I'm certain Thor would agree-"

Before Loki finished, Cora threw her arms firmly around his neck. He went completely rigid, and blisteringly hot, fingers balling to fists and not relaxing until she released him.

"You're welcome." Loki shuffled to the other side of the sofa.

"I'm sorry, if I start bawling my eyes out," she said. Her eyes were locked on the paper, tracing the words with her fingers. "I'm a bit inebriated."

Loki pressed his lips together and nodded. "Mm hm."

"And sorry if hugging you was... It's not my typical-"

Loki shook his head, parting his lips to squeak out a brief, "It's fine."

She did not sob, at least he heard nothing. Loki elected to firmly closed his eyes and give himself over to what remained of his relaxed state from the liqueur. In the end, he did not see a war zone, only the lights from the television scattering random blooms and shapes. At some point, the movie ended, and at some point, Loki was at last pulled into a sleep that was blessedly dreamless. His head fell back over the top of the sofa, the lines in the face softened, and he snored lightly... nothing like the sounds his brother made.

And before Cora could muster the energy to walk home, she too succumbed to sleep from the effects of the drink, though not immediately after Loki. She folded herself up in the corner of the cushions, reading the list again and again, giving the reposed God of Mischief long, wide-eyed stares, until her eyes grew too heavy to look at anything at all.

And eventually, thought still well before dawn, Thor emerged from the closed room. Loki had never come to bed, and he was half-panicked that he would find the apartment empty, as well. Instead, he stumbled upon the strangest of all possible tableaus and gaped open-mouthed, wondering just what the fuck had happened while he slept.


	9. Cora

Cora did not know when, exactly, Loki had drifted off to sleep. His eyes were closed for a long time before his breathing turned to raspy, even pulls. It was more snore-like than snoring, if the comparison to the rock-grinding sounds coming from Thor's bedroom were to be made, which seemed fair, as apparently all that separated them was an atrociously thin wall.

It was a pretty flat, though - very stylish, very modern. She had been there once before, but only briefly. She and Thor tended to conduct all their work in the cafe, where the coffee and snacks were never more than few feet away. Thor was fairly open about the caffeine addiction he had developed, and she knew she was an enabler.

It could not have been too late, but Cora was struggling to remember what time it was when she set out for the apartment. She watched the end of Hocus Pocus, though her attention was drawn over and over to the list in her hands. At some point, she glanced in Loki's direction and noticed that the tightness in his brow had melted away. Up till then, he looked as though he was actively trying to bring on sleep through sheer force of will, which should have been counterproductive, but she had misjudged his stubbornness - which was stupid of her, she thought, after everything.

If seeing his bare feet had made him a bit less intimidating, observing him in repose would not turn back the clock, and Cora suspected Loki might not like that. She knew she ought to make her exit, ought to have left long ago. It was completely inappropriate of her to still be in the flat while both brothers slept, one of them totally unaware that she was there at all. But her brain was half-soaked in Asgardian alcohol and her judgment was not what it might have been, made all the worse by the fact that Loki flinched when she so much as adjusted her legs. Rising from the sofa, Cora was convinced, would rouse him completely, and she did not think he deserved that, after hearing her out and...everything else. There was a lot to unpack.

She was determined to leave, soon, but she would to give him until he entered a deeper sleep. Until then, she would keep rereading the list. Loki had done something to enchant the writing, making it legible to her eye, but it left intact two distinct hands. The majority of it she recognized to be Thor's, whose penmanship was exactly what one would expect of him: uniform and a bit elegant, with unbroken, steady pressure; a prime example of a dying art. Loki's, too, was a kind of self-portrait, in that no two letters that were meant to match actually did. It was a slanted, flourishing hand. His words were small and tight, transforming what might have been loops into slashes, as if he was guiding a knife rather than a pen. The characterization should have caused more disquiet than it did. Cora found it a little endearing, a realization which cost her a moment of stern consternation, that she might have been far too comfortable in the company of someone who was, on paper.

She shook her head. No, she did not feel unsafe in his presence. Cora would leave it at that.

But just because she could read the words, it did not mean she could understand all of them, or even most of them. The first was easy: Aesir . Thor had written that. And directly below, in Loki's violent penmanship, was Human. After that, his additions were not quite so angry-looking.

Some of the peoples were too alien-sounding to build a visual concept; their names amounted to a collection of letters with too many consonants. Others carried overtones that a human could easily grasp, like the ethereal-sounding Celestial. But that had been crossed out. By whom, Cora could not tell. Apparently they had come to a consensus on that one.

When Loki woke, she would have to ask him what the peoples were like. Perhaps he needed her help to narrow it down.

She would ask Thor, too, of course. She would talk about it with both of them. Tomorrow afternoon. It was just that Loki had been the one to put the paper into her hands, and the gesture seemed to go beyond a simple peace offering. He could just as easily as not have brought to the list to her attention, and knowing him, a least as much as Cora could after two days, she believed he was probably tempted to keep it to himself. But he had still given it to her.

Cora smiled as she thought about how startled he looked when she threw her arms around him, even though she had only stolen the quickest of glances. She was fairly embarrassed with herself for doing it, and blamed the alcohol. More clear in her mind was how she felt him tighten like a cord of wire, stretched as far as it could go. It was a little funny.

She looked down at herself, wondering if she was capable of gracefully untangling from the pretzel-shape she had managed to form. Lifting one leg to straighten out the other revealed that her foot had fallen asleep. Her Doc Martens were too snug around the ankles to put her weight on top them like this; she was all pins and needles and it hurt. But her foot's sleep proved itself far deeper than Loki's as he made a rattled, choking sound when she attempted to shake it out.

Cora froze, keeping her eyes sidelong on his face. Waiting. Would he wake?

Loki snorted, as though there really was something trapped in his throat. It was not a dignified sound for a prince, nor was he in an especially princely position. His head had rolled back over the top of the sofa, creating an extension in his neck that looked uncomfortable. It forced his jaw to fall open, drawing the hollows of his cheeks downward, elongating every line of an appearance that was already a collection of long lines and acute angles.

Slowly, his startled expression thawed and Loki went back to looking as if he was asleep. Cora carefully pushed herself back into the cushions in the opposite corner and attempted to make herself comfortable, and for the most part, succeeded. Apparently, she would have to keep waiting, though she was starting to wonder if letting him stay asleep was worth so much effort. Did he really deserve it, she wondered, and the answer was probably no, he didn't, all things considered. But...

Deserve or not deserve? She was no great fan of thinking that way. It demanded too much justification for the randomness of life, and she had always been, at heart, more scientist than sentimental.

Cora yawned. She considered herself a bit fortunate that she had never really been inclined to think people deserved this or that, especially herself, or she truly would have fallen prey to insanity long ago. It was the one bit of luck she ever possessed, having the resources to process the rest of what she had been dealt. Not that it had all been shit. A lot of it had been very good. Some of it had been beautiful.

Loki was very still, now. Aside from Thor's snoring and the flashes of the television screen, everything was still and silent and it seemed much later than it actually was.

It amused her that he and Thor looked so starkly differently from one another, regardless of not sharing blood. They made a striking pair, and were so obviously aware of it that they enjoyed toying a bit, as though they were trying to outdo one another in accessorizing their individuality. Loki was objectively the more fashionable, even in his pajamas. ...Not that she had ever seen Thor in whatever it was he wore to bed. She just doubted it matched.

All right. Loki seemed fully asleep, at last. Cora squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, fighting to rouse herself, because her body had begun to feel very heavy. She gave her foot, which still tingled, a little shake to see if Loki would react. He did not.

She would allow him a few more minutes, just to be certain. He looked too peaceful. Children looked that way when they slept. Little babies. Maybe she did think he deserved something, after all, even if it was just a night's rest. It made her the slightest bit brokenhearted to know how tense his face would become once his eyes were open to the world.

Cora's lids moved down and up, this time more gently.

There was something about him that was generally difficult to look at for too long. Or there had been. It occurred to her that it was not so challenging at the moment, possibly because she was half-intoxicated, but she preferred to think it was because everything seemed to be out in the open - or enough of it was. Loki was right to call her out for not meeting his eye. Or if not right , at least he had been correct, because there was something that kept pushing her gaze aside. A something. It had nothing to do with his face in and of itself. Cora wished she could have been less obvious about it, but maybe that was an impossible task, given the baggage of the vision and what happened in New York. But really, the something had more to do with the way he looked at her, not what it was like to look at him.

Except… Those were one and the same thing, actually.

Cora rested her cheek against the velvety sofa cushion. Her soggy brain was trying to piece together a metaphor, now. To look at Loki was like looking in a kind of mirror, not in a sentimental sense, and certainly not because he was some kind of kindred lost soul, but…

Well, there was probably something to be said for being able to cry together and drink together and then passing out on the sofa watching children's Halloween movies…

Her eyes fluttered open. Cora did not know for how long they were closed. For a fraction of a second, she might have even been dreaming, because she was fairly certain she heard Loki say something, but he was still fast asleep. Maybe it had just been the television.

The sensory minutiae of the living room warmed her where she had gone cold from sleep and her eyes landed on the bottle of Asgardian gin still standing on the kitchen island. Her gaze moved to the empty glasses on the coffee table. And then, they moved to Loki, with his ceiling-turned, pointed nose, chin, and Adam's apple. Her eyes shifted downward, to his bare arms and feet and the downy hair on each. He looked much more man than god, so vulnerable and unselfconscious. Still prince-like, in an undeniable though undefinable way. He looked more regal than Thor.

She took a long pull of air through her nose.

Looking at Loki was like looking into a mirror, not because you saw yourself in him, but because he could not turn his eyes upon you without projecting how he was sizing you up. Thor had called it being perceptive, but that did not do it justice. lt was much more like a kind of Sherlock Holmes-esque mentalism. He could take you apart, pry free everything of significance, and put you back together, conquered. It was as unnerving as it was spectacular to witness, even when on the receiving end. Especially when on the receiving end.

But all of it was on the surface, a talent Loki seemingly liked to show off, while everything else about him remained shuttered to the world. This ability to dismantle you, you were meant to notice it, be thrown by it, like a kind of preemptive attack. A warning. It had taken too long for Cora to realize just what, exactly, he was threatening to do to her. But it had not taken quite so long, after it was done, to understand why he felt so compelled to go to Trondheim. It struck her, like lighting in the midst of her emotional disarray, and everything that had fallen apart started to come back together. She could not think of him the same way, afterward. It was what had brought her to the flat.

Loki had caused her nearly indescribable pain. The only word that came close was that it was like fire. But she could not deny that she was relieved now that she had passed through to the other side. It was like giving birth. The secret could finally become something different after such a long time of being curled inside her, though it had always been much more snakelike and childlike. She was glad to see it like an observer for once.

Cora shifted her weight against the back of the sofa, freeing an arm so that she could place it comfortably over her chest. Blinking seemed to take longer and longer. The sounds of the television were growing distant.

Loki seemed to distrust the entire universe. Maybe it was half-imagined, like Thor tacitly implied, these injuries that Loki could recount, but Cora had her doubts, and simple mathematics suggested that which was was half-imagined was probably half-real. He had entered the coffee shop already deep in the middle of his argument with her, because the truth was that he was constantly at war, with everything. With himself, too, she was certain after tonight's conversation. Like a soldier, or more accurately a soldier of fortune, he had never come home from the war, from New York. And as for his home, well, that was gone, too, wasn't it?

Loki even seemed to be partly engaged in battle with Thor, which Cora thought strange, considering how much love was strongly evident between them. He seemed to take shots wherever he saw openings, at Thor or otherwise; she had been an easy target at such close proximity. And his finger was always on the trigger, anyway. It had just taken her a little time to notice how the finger trembled.

He was shell-shocked.

It was just that Loki had gotten so good at hiding it, layer after hardened layer, that after so many years, it was clear that he was just trapped - and yet she wondered how often people took the time to actually take a good look at him. She had pieced together enough to understand that Thor was one of the few people able to do it, and more importantly, that Loki allowed it. This was even before Loki accompanied him to Seine. There were times when Thor spoke of his brother and his eyes took on a faraway gaze, slick with fear. Cora pressed him, but not firmly; the look frightened her somewhat. He admitted to having concern for his brother's health, but she did not understand until she met the man. She did not fully understand until this afternoon.

Maybe it was still wrong to have put the pain he caused her aside so quickly. Even as she walked to the flat, the chill of the night air gave life to second and even third thoughts. And then he was determined to keep being so infernally difficult. Forth thoughts.

She had not come to fix him. Her decision was not borne out of some kind of misguided maternal instinct or pride. But Thor had shown her, unconsciously, how to reach his brother, and Cora wanted to try. She could lay her cards on the table and give him an opportunity to see her not turn away from his gaze. And she could forgive him.

Initially, it was clear that all she had done was confuse Loki, and he since he hated being confused, he fought back. More than once, it seemed hopeless, and Cora again wondered if she had been an idiot after all. The moment his tears broke through utterly shocked her. It was like watching a rock crash through a glass window. He flushed crimson with embarrassment and she was scared that she had done some horrible damage to him.

But then, he looked so utterly relieved in realizing there was no going back, no fixing what was in pieces at her feet. That was the turning point, their give and take shifting dramatically. Organically. He offered her his handkerchief. In giving her the Asgardian gin, he had willingly shared a hidden part of himself. And in giving her the list, he had shown her his kindness.

Loki had done all of those things, and they seemed to occur to him so effortlessly.

Even now, he could have gone into his bedroom and left her to sober up on her own; she would have understood, but it was kind of him to sit with her. It seemed they were both guilty of lingering too long.

Her eyes were closed now. They had been so for some time.

Cora fell asleep.

* * *

Notes: So, generally speaking, if you think something has a double meaning, you're probably right. Don't want to explain all my metaphors, but if it moves like a snake and stabs like a snake, it's probably a snake. And if you wonder just WHY someone might be making a particular connection... You're on to something. Won't say any more than that, though.

I was really happy to finally be able to go into Cora's mind and her impression of everything that's happened. There were a lot of moments up till now where I wanted to get into exactly how she felt, but I couldn't for obvious reasons.


	10. Morgen

Loki woke to the gravely cacophony of Thor clearing his throat.

Something heavy shifted beside him. He opened his eyes with a start, believing himself to be in bed, and apparently not alone. His mouth was sour with the residual pungency of stale alcohol. With a second jolt, Loki twisted his attention and his body sideways, where he discovered Cora in the process of jumping to her feet.

But this was not the bedroom; it was on the living room sofa where they found themselves, several feet apart. Thor stood on the far side of the coffee table, wearing his jeans from the day before and not much else. From the waist up he was bare, with his thick arms extended, palms upturned in a gesture that could only be interpreted as, What the hell is going on?

It was early morning. Though still dark, due to the polar night, the sky on the other side of the window was clear. The local news was playing on the television.

Loki realized what must have happened.

With a groan, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and rubbed, hard . It felt like there was sand along the edges of his lids. From there, his hands dropped into his lap. "I guess we fell asleep."

His words were directed at Cora, but Loki could not quite bring himself to look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stockinged legs wobble, and she locked her knees.

A thick knot had taken shape between Thor's eyes. "What do you mean, you fell asleep ? What happened? Why is… Why...?" His voice had risen a full octave. He tended to go squeaky the closer he neared to stammering. Typically, the sound was hilarious to Loki, but at the present moment, with all of its awkward particulars, it passed by underappreciated.

"We, um…" Cora tried to speak first, but her throat sounded as if someone had been clawing at it from the inside. She started coughing.

Loki cut in, gesturing to the television. "We were watching a movie." It as the truth, after all; they had passed out without switching it off.

Thor was already turning to take in the whole of the space. There were a few clues scattered about as to what happened while he slept, most of them incriminating, such as that both the dusty whiskey bottle and fine Asgardian flask were standing tall on the kitchen island. There were empty glasses on the coffee table, as well, but Thor did not comment on any of it, perhaps because the blinking television bolstered their innocent alibi.

Not to mention the fact that Loki and she were both fully dressed and had been sleeping with a at least meter of space between them. Taken altogether, it was far more silly than sensual, minus the fact that his head felt like it was in an iron vice.

Thor came to a stop, facing them once again. He looked no less confused than before.

Loki sighed. "Cora came over because she wanted to talk ."

The scowl that knit Thor's forehead parted and softened.

Cora gave her throat another clearing. "And apologize for not being upfront about myself."

Her words hung in the air, a prologue to a chapter she had read to Loki the night before. His eyes caught Cora's. The two exchanged the briefest of glances and the muscles of his gut tightened with an unexpected clench. He knew it was as plain to her as it was to him. They would have to share everything with Thor, soon, perhaps imminently.

Loki pointed his face to the floor, his eyes moving back and forth as though he was actually reading words on a page as he thought. She had to be dreading it. He was certain she would see it through, regardless.

It would probably be easier the second time, would it not?

Loki brought his hands together, tracing his thumbnail along the creases of his palm, applying pressure until he felt a scratch. He frowned and looked up.

Already, they had both gone too long without saying more. Thor's shoulders dropped, lead by an audible sigh. He looked as if he was turning over a thought in his mouth, chewing on his words. He rubbed his temple and his hand moved up as though to pull back his hair, but his fingers slipped through the short strands.

"Would you be opposed to filling me in?" he asked.

"Of course not," said Cora, quickly.

Loki cast another glance in her direction. She had moved her legs further apart, fortifying her stance against the persistent, though nearly imperceptible wobbles.

The muscles in his gut tensed again.

No one spoke right away. Thor's attention moved back and forth; Cora looked at Thor; Loki scowled into his open palms. He sniffed the air. It was sharp with saltwater. And then he nodded to himself.

Slowly, Loki began to lean back until he felt his shoulders touch the cushion of the sofa and, resting his hands between his parted knees, he caught his brother's attention with a quick motion of his finger. Thor blinked. Loki flicked his eyes from Thor's face to his chest, and with a swift jerk he tipped his head in the direction of the bedroom door.

Thor looked down at himself and seemed at last to realize that he was half-naked. His hand grazed his chest and he turned. "Let me grab a shirt…"

Bait, taken; Loki kept his face still.

Thor vanished into the darkness of the unlit bedroom.

At last, Cora sat down, cupping her palm against her forehead. "Oh my god. I'm so hungover," she admitted in a husky, far from sultry, whisper. Loki took a thorough look at her for the first time since waking. Her hair was folded at a silly angle, her lips were swollen, a fabric pattern was pressed into the skin of one cheek, both of which were flushed with a splotchy pink.

With a meager nod, Loki swallowed. Everything in his mouth was thick and sticky. "I'm feeling it, too. I shouldn't have poured so much." They'd taken the equivalent of six pours in one sitting; if he was hungover, Cora must have felt near to death. They both laughed, grimly.

And then he paused for a second, knowing they had very few to spare. The polar night meant that the sky would be black for a few more hours and it felt as though they were still in the midst of their late-night conversation.

"What do you want me to tell him?" he asked, lowering his voice to match hers.

She frowned. "You?"

"I don't see any reason why you should have to stay. Go home, get some more sleep. Something to eat would probably be advisable." He almost smiled and, taking a pause, lowed his voice to a sheer whisper. "I'll talk to Thor. Come back later. Or, if you prefer, we could meet at the cafe."

"Oh, no. I couldn't." Cora shook her head. "I appreciate it, but I wasn't planning that you would have speak for me. I was going to do it"

Loki tilted his head. It was nearly frustrating, this latent nobility of hers. "I know," he said. "But you don't have to. Do you understand?"

Her eyelids fluttered.

In the bedroom, Thor's muffled footfalls were growing more clear. Loki's jaw tightened. He allowed himself a second to think, and then he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to put yourself through that again. I can tell him."

Cora looked at Loki with an expression that was blank on one side, and fathomless on the other. Her mouth quivered. Loki pulled back his hand and ran it down the fabric of his pajamas, across his stomach, and not taking her eyes from him, she tentatively reached for her coat. It was balled at her feet. She gathered it up and pushed her arms through the sleeves and stood. Loki rose alongside her. His legs gave their own wobble.

"You can tell him all of it," she whispered, working the coat's oblong wooden buttons.

Thor reentered the room and Loki leaned back to regard him. He returned to the same spot he had occupied before, on the far side of the coffee table. He did not seem surprised to see Cora on her way out. In a few steps, she was at the door, though Loki suspected she feared walking any less directly would result in falling over.

He silently picked up the highball glasses they had emptied before passing out. The door opened and closed again. She shuffled heavily across the wooden porch in her chunky boots and down the stairs and then Loki could not hear her anymore. His shoulders sank as he finally gave in to his physical misery. With his free hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Thor grunted. It communicated more than one might expect, though Loki was fluent in his brother's guttural musings. This particular sound had a question mark at the end.

"I suggested to her that we meet up later," replied Loki. "I'll do the filling in."

Thor gave a nod. "Mind if I put on coffee?"

"Not at all," said Loki. He secretly considered having a cup himself, such was the fog in his head. He was fairly nauseous on top of it all, now that he was standing.

Thor walked across the long threshold that ambiguously separated the living area from the kitchen. He paused in front of the island, squinted his eyes, and reached for the pretty Asgarian flask, though his fingers stopped just shy of touching it. He pointed. "I assume this is yours."

"I've been carrying it around with me, yes."

"Hmm."

Loki moved past Thor. He did not want to talk about the flask, or the drinking, or any of that. The longer he thought, the less he looked forward to talking at all, but there was no escaping it.

He could feel his brother's eye follow him, feel him gearing up to something. It made Loki's neck hot. He placed the glasses in the sink and turned on the tap to rinse them out. One of them he filled to the brim with water and drank it down. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Thor was facing him directly, with his arms folded high across his chest. He looked far too merry. His cheeks were pink from a grin he was very poorly hiding.

With a resigned sigh, Loki shook his head. The collar of his pajama shirt felt rough against the heat spreading down his neck and into the space between his shoulder blades. He filled the glass a second time and turned around. "Just say it."

"So… You and Cora slept together." Thor looked very pleased with himself, even though he must have known the joke was beneath the both of them. Loki supposed it had to be gotten out of his system. And admittedly, under a different set of circumstances, Loki probably would have felt just as possessed to say the same.

"Ha ha. Ho Ho. Funny." He lifted the glass to his lips and with his opposite hand, Loki made a lewd gesture he had grown fond of on Midgard. It was satisfying. He finished the second glass of water more slowly than the first, placing it to the side before it was empty, and leaned back against the sink.

Thor chuckled on his way to the coffee machine, taking up a station beside Loki. He put a fresh filter inside and opened the canister of grounds. The heady smell was nauseating; Loki recanted his thoughts on having a cup.

"It looks like the two of you had a party."

Loki reached for his glass and lifted it to his lips. "Actually, the drink was to help her calm down after…"

He paused, as did Thor. The chuckling ceased. From the corner of his eye, Loki uneasily watched his brother falter in pouring a spoonful of coffee grinds, and then reach for a paper towel to clean it up. He turned with a lined and heavy brow.

Loki pressed his lips together and placed the cup down without drinking. The waves of nausea were too close together to ignore. What he needed was something to eat. He began opening the cabinets, searching for the muesli he had discovered the night before.

Thor watched him for a short while before finally asking, "What happened?"

And so, with a sigh and a sick stomach, Loki began the tale of what had transpired while Thor slept.

"Cora came over just before nine o'clock, I believe it was, and asked if I wouldn't mind talking. She wanted to apologize for not telling us the truth and berate me a bit more." He found the box of cereal, pulled it down, and set to the task of finding a bowl. "She's still not forgiven me for… Or maybe she has. I'm not sure. She did admit to doing the same to me, doing mounds of research, before my arrival - which I think was good of her to realize."

There was a matter-of-fact coldness to his tone, perhaps because he felt so ill, but the facts were that it had always been easy for Loki to separate what he said from what he felt. To a point. If Thor was listening and looking closely enough, which he probably was, he would have noticed that Loki had taken a lesson from Cora, concentrating a on the busy work of making breakfast, and avoiding his brother's eye.

Thor, meanwhile, had poured water into the coffee machine and pressed a button that caused it to start sputtering. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Loki shrugged. "I don't know. It just sort of unfolded that way."

"And then what?" Thor settled into waiting for his liquid breakfast. "You already knew about her reading information about you."

"She... went more deeply than I had realized," said Loki. He poured milk into the bowl. The cereal was meant to be eaten hot, but he preferred it cold. "Not to mention that you've clearly told her a few things about me of which I was unaware."

Loki's coldness turned to ice, and then… it melted. It felt like slime on his tongue. He came to an abrupt stop, staring down his bowl, as if he could there see the attack which so uncautiously spilled from his mouth. He placed the milk carton on the countertop and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, wincing at Thor. "I don't want to be… I'm not angry with you. I just didn't realize how much you told her."

Thor's face went red. His lips thinned. And then, he nodded. "I don't want you to think of it as though I divulged your entire life story all at once," he said. "She would ask questions and I would try to answer them. But, you're right, I probably did not always think about what you might not have told her yourself."

If they were going to start listing the things Loki would not have told her, they would be standing for a very long time indeed.

Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering how interested he was in saying more. Since his first meeting with Cora, he had been keenly aware that she possessed knowledge of him that had to have come from Thor, and it had made his skin itch. It still did.

His mouth tasted sour again. "I know it makes me a hypocrite, by definition, after what I did yesterday afternoon. And I suppose it's possible that I wanted to… have some kind of leverage over her. And perhaps I was just a bit too happy to have some freedom for the first time in a year." Loki shook his head. Always so perceptive... about everyone but yourself. His mother's final words rattled in his mind.

Thor lifted his eyes. He appeared to be listening very intently.

But Loki's throat had grown too tight. He swallowed hard and shook his head, again. Opening a drawer, he pushed his hand inside blindly, eyes still on Thor.

"It was just that, she seemed to know all about when I let go of the Gungnir. I can understand you explaining what happened afterward, but the actual…" He swallowed hard, shook his head, and paused to take a breath, because he was starting to feel angry. The silverware clattered between his fingers.

Thor took a step forward, so that he was standing right at Loki's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said.

Loki looked up in surprise, as though Thor had admitted to something truly astonishing, like having a secret life as an exotic dancer.

"I mean it, Loki. I'm very sorry I told her about that."

Loki blinked. The words had come so effortlessly. The coffee machine made a few fizzling pops, signalling that the brewing had completed its course.

Thor repeated himself, again . "I'm sorry."

Loki ran his tongue across his very dry lips, swallowed, and sort of nodded. At least, he felt his head move, though he could not be entirely sure what he was attempting to signal.

"It's... fine..." It was not fine, not really, but he was going to be dumbfounded by Thor's apology for a while to come. "I think knowing about… that- it helped her talk about other things."

"Such as what?"

Loki's hand was still in the silverware drawer, his fingers hovering just above the spoons as he thought. Cora had given him permission to talk about everything, but he was starting to feel hesitant before he even truly began. What she really had done was place some degree of trust in him. He did not quite know what to do with it.

"Similar experiences," he offered, haltingly, and hoped it would be enough.

Thor looked confused for a moment, but only a moment, blessedly. He soberly dipped his head with a single nod and turned to fill a mug with coffee.

Loki passed him the milk with one hand and pulled out a spoon with the other. He turned around, lifting his bowl to his chest, and pressed his backside against the edge of the countertop. On the far side of the room, his eyes fell upon the sofa. The television, which was still on, cast random lights and shapes across the fabric, and he absentmindedly stirred his cereal.

"Honestly, Thor," he said. "We didn't wake you because there was no opportune time to do it, once she started talking. The conversation, you can imagine, was fairly intimate from the start. She told me about what kind of world it was when she grew up." He squinted his eyes. "I think she might have been married once and I don't think it was happily."

"What makes you say that?"

"She said something about gaining freedom after everyone she knew had died. I suppose I don't really know. I'm assuming." He frowned.

His brother did not reply, but Loki could hear him sipping his coffee and it sounded as though he was nodding while he did it.

He went on. "But we talked about New York, and about the vision some more - why she's certain it's me running towards her."

Thor swallowed. "And why is that?"

Loki opened his mouth, screwing up his face with a funny sort of grimace before answering. He scratched his chin; the stubble on his jawline scratched him back. "Well, it's mostly her gut instinct, but she's convinced."

"And that… convinces you, as well?"

Loki shrugged. Once more, he did not know quite how he could put what he was thinking to words that Thor could grasp without having been there. Much of what he had come to understand about Cora was not through the facts she gave him - though he did believe her to be forthright once she was finally willing to speak - but in the little details, the unconscious communication, as it had been from the moment when she revealed herself in the coffee shop, when he first began to pay attention.

Now, Loki squinted at the spot where they had stood talking in the kitchen, beside the island. He recalled her chipped nail polish as she fidgeted with her coat, her pale hands, and her steady gaze. She had been so gentle in dealing with their delicate topics of conversation, so gentle with him, really. Kind. Thinking about some of it now, for a little too long, Loki recognized the warmth of a fire in his belly, as though he would find it effortless to defend her, now that she had become a solid figure in his mind.

Though, at the same time, the realization bore a prickly discomfort. Last night, he had still been of the opinion that it was right to go to the university, and perhaps it was. But perhaps it was not. Perhaps he could have gone about all of that in a manner that would not have caused her such pain.

He moved to stuff a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, as if the coolness might turn down the warm sensation that was becoming less like inspiration and more like burning.

"I don't think she's lying about it, at any rate," he said at length. He pushed the spoon through his lips for his first bite of the now soggy cereal, only to discover that he had not taken a spoon from the drawer, but a butter knife, and all but stabbed himself in the back of the throat. "Ahgh! Hel…"

Thor did not fully catch what Loki had done and gestured to the little pine table in the corner. Loki threw the useless butter knife into the sink, traded it for a spoon, and conceded that it was rather awkward to converse while standing side-by-side at the counter. He followed his brother across the kitchen, sat beside him, and finally began to eat.

"So, you believe her," stated Thor. "Honestly, I'm not going to argue against that. I wanted you to get along from the start. Do you think this is all in the past, now?"

Leave it to Thor to be pleased with the simplest solution, but as they were now roughly on the same page, Loki was hardly bothered.

"I think it is," said Loki, taking another spoonful. He was feeling less sick, more famished. "I think the real problem, for her, was that it was that much of it was just too difficult for her bring up. It might have been an impossible task. You and I are the first to know in decades."

Thor nodded. "It's understandable. But what does it all mean? Is she immortal? Did she say anything regarding that?"

"She doesn't know," said Loki. "She doesn't know what she is or what the vision has to do with anything. I don't think she's even left Norway since she came here, and what was what? Forty… almost fifty of the earth's rotations ago."

Thor brushed his hand across the table. He scowled again. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The list."

"Oh. I gave it to her."

"You gave it to her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So that she could read it, Thor. She took it with her when she left. I'm sure she'll bring it back." Loki could not understand the confusion. Had his brother not just stated that he wanted the two of them to behave in the friendly manner?

Thor's lips parted. He pushed his mug against them and tipped it back, eyes narrowing. When he made expressions like that, the unnatural sheen of his false eye was a little more noticeable. Apparently it was not programmed to appear convincingly bemused. Though when Thor smiled, as he happened to do next, the look became a bit more natural.

"No, that's fine," said Thor, shaking his head. "That was a good idea. It'll give her some idea of what we're working with."

"Mmhm." Loki scraped the bowl to finish the rest of his cereal. At last, he could not longer say he felt sick, but the heavy exhaustion had not dissipated. He briefly returned to considering a cup of coffee, but the reality was that he had time to return to bed, in an actual bed, and that was by far more preferable. "What's are your plans, now?" he asked Thor.

Thor leaned back in his chair. "Since we're not going to the stave, I have no plans. Did you and Cora decide when we would meet?"

"I assume after she's had time to put herself back in order. Later this morning. She probably needs more sleep. She was fairly sick."

Thor raised in eyebrow, to which Loki gave a gentle shrug. He twisted around in his chair and pointed to the Asgardian flask.

"Juniper Cheer," said Loki. "Not meant to be taken in large amounts by mortals or otherwise. Unfortunately, I didn't remember until we had already taken it in large amounts."

"Juniper Cheer? Loki, it's possible you nearly killed her," laughed Thor. "I'm not surprised she couldn't make it home last night. How long have you been carrying that, anyway?"

"A few hundred years, give or take a decade."

Thor shook his head. "The things you keep in your pockets…"

"The things I forget are in my pockets. Sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering if I left an animal in there. Or, I don't know… a distant cousin…" Loki rose to his feet, pointing to the filthy Midgardian bottle beside the flask which held something that was supposed to be whiskey, but was decidedly not . "Honestly, if you kept a better liquor cabinet, I wouldn't have thought to call up something else. So it's all your fault, when you think about it."

Loki did somewhat wonder what Thor drank while he visited Norway and where it was that he went to drink it. It certainly was not in the apartment. The past two days had been like taking a peek into a part of his brother's life which, up till now, did not involve him, which was tangibly strange given that their time in New York was nothing but welded together. What sort of things did Thor do when he was on his own?

"That thing was here when I moved in. It might be older than your stash." Thor tipped back his coffee mug and finished what was left inside.

"There's your relic!" said Loki, chuckling.

Beside the dirty bottle stood the pristine flask of what remained of the juniper liqueur. Time to store it again. Loki reached for it and his fingertips began to shimmer with golden light. Truly, the craftsmanship of the bottle too exquisite to call it by a word that sounded so crass. Flask. What it was, indubitably, was a piece of fine Asgardian crystal, and unless Loki actually had lost track of a much larger collection of decanters and goblets, it was the only example of its type to survive Ragnarok.

Loki closed his fingers around the neck of the flask, but the golden light in his palm had already vanished, and the glass facets remained solid under the weight of his touch. He looked at Thor. His brother's eyes were sharp and heavy.

"Perhaps I'll leave it out."

Thor nodded. "Yes, I think you should."

Loki carried it to the darkened window over the sink, placed at in the center of the sill, and stepped back. His hands found one another behind his back and he clasped them there, tightly.

In silence, the brothers admired it. They had no words. There were no words.

Reluctantly, Loki turned around. "If we don't have immediate plans, I'm going to go back to bed, provided you agree that I've sufficiently explained the events of last night."

Thor waved a hand. "It sounds as though the heart of the matter was between the two of you. I'm satisfied simply by knowing we can leave it in the past. And try to figure out that she is, I suppose."

Loki smirked. "Hmm. And continue your search for your relic?"

"And continue the search for our relic," corrected Thor.

With a sigh, Loki set one foot in front of the other, shaking his head. But the opposite corner of his mouth had perked up. He walked past Thor, at first pointing himself in the direction of the bedroom, though he turned off at the bathroom. It seemed wise to make a quick stop before putting himself to sleep.

Loki ran his fingertips affectionately along the cool lip of the clawfoot tub as he passed it by.

He showed the toilet less affection.

It was a minute later, while washing his hands, that he caught sight of himself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long while, Loki felt compelled to take stock of the image staring back at him.

He clenched his teeth.

The figure Loki saw looked as though it had lost a fight with some kind of wild animal. His hair, to start, was somehow both matted down andexpansive; totally unpresentable, even to Thor. What could he blame: the rain, the drink, the odd posture of his sleep? How had his brother not commented on how ridiculous he looked? For fuck's sake, they had been talking about falling from the Bifrost. How had he been able to take him with remote seriousness? Not to mention, Cora.

Loki reached up and tugged on a particularly wild curl until it loosened and fell to his shoulder where it belonged. And because he was apparently a glutton for punishment, he leaned closer to the mirror, nose nearly touching nose.

He patted the delicate skin beneath his eyes, where the circles were purple enough to be mistaken for bruises. His cheeks were splotched with red. Loki blamed the liqueur directly for the flush, no doubt about that. Cora had looked much the same in that regard.

He turned on the cold tap water, filled his hands, and splashed it across his face. He kept one hand raised, eyes locking in on a thread of light which began to snake itself around his forearm, coming to rest at the spot where his knobby wrist met the softer flesh of his palm. The thread circled a few times, fused together, and settled in the form of an elastic hair tie.

Gathering up the mess that formerly resembled his hair, Loki fastened it in a knot at the base of his skull. Good enough for now.

He did not give himself another glace. He merely took a towel, dried his cheeks, and left the bathroom mirror behind. All he wanted was sleep. He would put himself back together later.

He caught Thor's eye on the short hook from the bathroom to the bedroom and lifted his hand in a brief salute of sorts.

"G'night," said Thor. He was pouring a second cup of coffee. "Or… Whatever. Go to bed."

Loki's hand gesture turned into a thumbs up. He went into the bedroom, closed the door, and had he the energy, he would thrown himself on top of the sheets. As it was, he more or less spread out on his belly like a putty, taking up the full width of the mattress. There were no strange bodies to worry about accidentally rolling over.

He opened his eyes for a moment.

And he closed them again.

* * *

Loki had been in the bedroom for about an hour when Thor decided to remove himself from the apartment, and from the pressure of keeping the rooms silent. His brother was a light sleeper, always had been. Just as it was during his waking hours, it was impossible to sneak around Loki without triggering whatever alarms he kept primed at all times. And Thor was big enough to admit that he was quite big, and not known for being light of foot in any setting.

Thor had taken two large cups of strong coffee and his limbs had become, to use a very Midgardian term, antsy . His body demanded he put something substantial into it, more than the oats and dried fruit Loki had made his breakfast, but clattering pans was not an option. So he slipped on his boots and threw on his coat and went outside. Something on the main strip had to be open by now.

There was a jaunt to his step that did not quite belong to the antsy-ness. The polar night meant it was still dark, but there was something glorious about the quality of the air, as if the storm of the previous day had washed the all the gloom clean. And maybe it was not in fact warmer, but Thor told himself that it was as he pulled the air deep into his lungs. He filled himself up like a balloon. He felt light.

Really, Thor was just plain relieved. If Cora was no longer culpable in Loki's eyes, then as far as he was concerned, she was fully exonerated. The matter, from the start, had been between them. Now that it was over, he no longer wished to think about it. Nor on his embarrassment for not picking up on Cora's deception, understandable though it was, from the start. To his credit, Loki had never gloated. Let it die in the past.

Though it did deflate him to think on the the things that Loki brought to light, with regards to her past, and the story about the Gungnir. Thor too had caught the little tremors in Cora's expressions from time to time, despite Loki's apparent belief that he was the only person to notice anything, ever. He could not help but wonder if he had asked, would he have saved Loki the pressure to solve the mystery for himself. Would Cora ever have told him?

It was over, now. That was all that mattered, was it not?

Thor curved his way down a less direct, scenic route through one of the few genuine neighborhoods of Seine. The houses here were old, made of stone, gathered in tight groupings that made for abrupt angles in streets not laid for anything wider than a horse and cart. He liked the look of them much more than the apartment he had taken, but available was available. And Loki approved, so there was that. And had not been the case, Thor would have expected him to change the entire thing around, anyway.

Thor's mood perked back up again. His arms breezily swung back and forth as he turned on to the main strip of shops and restaurants.

That was when he heard it. His name.

"Thor Odinson."

It was a resonate baritone, too low to send a chill down anyone's spine. Yet, it did. It chilled Thor Odinson.

Thor turned, already knowing who he would find. The form of Doctor Stephen Strange stepped down from a shop doorstep, dressed in Midgardian fashion. One brow was lifted high, the other drawn low, giving the impression that he was nearly winking.

The smug bastard.

But Thor had already frozen where he stood. Dr. Strange approached at his leisure, shaking his head.

"Thor, Thor... Just what has your brother been up to?"


	11. Doktor

Doctor Stephen Strange was one of the few associates of the Avengers who dressed, seemingly at all times, like a man who actually considered himself superhero... except right now, for whatever reason. Thor was certain he had never before seen him in Midgardian attire and it was, well, it was strange . Gone were the royal blue tunic and overabundance of leather belts. He was attempting to pass as a local in denim, flannel, and wool.

Unlike Thor, he was not exactly pulling it off. The man's face was innately conspicuous, with his over-gelled hair, winged gray sideburns, and wide, pointed cheekbones. Altogether, he was more humanoid than human, and Thor thought the interior matched the exterior. Strange was like an interloper who had attempted to study mankind, but tossed the book aside and declared himself an expert before reaching the chapter on emotion. He seemed neither to understand it nor possess it, and in Thor's estimation, that made him dangerously unsuitable for the duty he had been given with regard to the Odinsons' bargain, and especially with regard to Loki.

It was still before dawn. All the light by which Thor could see came from street lamps. Strange was standing too close, smiling like a smug asshole - a term Stark often used - as though he had been given power over the God of Thunder by some higher being. But the unfortunate truth was that he had, and that higher being was Thor himself; he had signed on the dotted line.

"Why are you here?" asked Thor, colder than the arctic waters only a few meters away. The sound of the bay waves breaking lapped against his ears, sounding unusually loud as his muscles grew tense.

Strange smiled. He pointed his nose down the street. "Off to get breakfast?"

A grim chuckle escaped Thor's lips. "You should know. Tell me, did you transport yourself seconds before I turned the corner, or have you been waiting here ever since you saw me leave the apartment?"

The smile on Strange's lips became thoroughly sardonic. Thor rolled his shoulders and pulled himself up to his full height, a good head over the doctor, but the man did not flinch.

Strange coolly took a step down the road. "Mind if I join?"

Thor remained still, hands in his pockets, dumbfounded by the man's audacity. Typically, when the Doctor turned, the overly dramatic flourish of a blood-red cape followed, but now there was nothing but a dull wool coat. Yet, the effect was the same. When Strange turned his back, it was to prove a point: Thor was no threat; he held the would-be King of Asgard in the palm of his hand.

There was no choice but to follow, but Thor was certain he had never felt such a desire to pick up a being and hurl him into the sea. For good measure, perhaps press his face in the water until bubbles stopped coming to the surface. Strange might have worked with the Avengers, but be brought out a side of Thor reserved for the enemy. Their short history together was so tangled that it seemed far longer, counting from knot to knot. And at the center of the web, of course, was Loki, still in chains.

Perhaps it was possible that Strange truly did have eyes in the back of his head, for his pace slowed until Thor caught up and the two were beside one another. Originally, Thor had planned on taking breakfast at the trendy Gud Brod , where he had Loki had eaten the previous afternoon, but with Strange in his company, he selected a grimy hole-in-the-wall instead. He had no desire to give the man anything more to enjoy than his power trip.

They entered the poorly lit dive and seated themselves in a pleather booth. The place smelled of harsh cleansers and, in spite of them, mildew. Standard Norwegian breakfasts of eggs with laks and anchovies were ordered; it would be just barely edible. Strange took coffee. Thor had already drank more than enough.

It less empty than one might expect. The inexpensive, semi-traditional fare was popular among the aging village fishermen, as the clientele was mostly of a specific, hardened type, whose eyes seemed fixed with an unwelcoming glare. Many of them had taken unappreciative notice of Strange, whose posh airs came off as intentional as they were obtrusive.

Thor would have prefered to dine with any of the grizzled old men. Had he not been entirely devoid of mirth, he might have caught their wrinkled eyes and shook his head. I know, right? _Get a load of this dickhead._

Stark had taught him many useful Midgardian terms.

Strange sat on the edge of his cushioned bench, leaning over the table, pushing against Thor's personal space. He had finally stopping smiling and his brows were high. He looked as though he was waiting for Thor to speak first, to begin asking questions, but Thor would not be pressured. He took a lesson from Loki and set his face in like flint.

It took roughly a minute for Strange to give up and begin whatever it was he had come to say. He spread his palms flat on the table. "Look, Thor, you know why I'm here."

Truly, Thor did not. He shrugged and gave his bearded jawline a scratch.

"You know what your brother did."

Thor tilted his head. What was Strange getting at? The business with Cora and Trondheim? What could he possibly…?

Shit.

Thor rolled his eyes and pulled a short, sharp breath through his nose. "I know what he did was no violation of our agreement."

Strange wagged a finger. "Ah. But you see, that's where you're wrong. You asked me if I would allow his passage through Norway be unrestricted and that I gave him. But in your company , Thor - not willy-nilly about the country. He was in another city for hours and you had no idea. It didn't even take him a full day to see how much he could get away with."

Shaking his head, Thor frowned. "He caused no trouble in Trondheim." No diabolical trouble, at any rate.

"Yeah? Well, he caused your friend a lot of grief," said Strange, far too casually.

Thor's stoney exterior had already become unsustainable, but he felt himself suddenly blanche, too quickly to turn away. It was then that the server returned to their table with a single mug of coffee and a few packets of syrupy non-dairy creamer. Strange lifted one and wrinkled his nose, and chose to take his coffee black.

He had made himself privy to his and Loki's late-night discussion. Who else in New York had been invited to witness while Thor slept? But it was no pang of exclusion that he felt - only rage.

It was not supposed to be this way. Nothing was ever supposed to be this way.

There was a knot in his stomach. It had been present since the moment of Strange's appearance, but now it tightened and grew hot. The heat spread upward through his chest, like heartburn, filling his throat with bile. He balled his fists beneath the table, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, as threads of electricity danced on his knuckles, hidden from Strange's view - though, was anything? A whiff of ozone reached his nose and Thor told himself to unclench, though his body would not listen.

Thor closed his eyes for a moment. "It was all a private matter."

Strange sipped his coffee. " None of it is a private matter."

At that, Thor slammed his fist on the table. The silverware jumped and a crack appeared in the cheap linoleum. Had he wanted to, he could have broken the thing in half. At last, Strange betrayed his humanity, eyes going wide with shock. Even he, with all his magic, was still just a man. Somewhere along the way, he had lost sight of that; Thor had no qualms about reminding him.

"You have no power over us, except that which we gave you," said Thor through his clenched teeth. "But you have done nothing but abuse that power. You have no right to spy-"

"I have every right to spy. It's literally my job!" cut in Strange. Neither of them were shouting, but the staff was beginning to take note of the seething, violent energy radiating from the table. "You know what your brother did in New York. You know who he is. Do you know why I was appointed to watch him, Thor? Because I'm the only one who can properly do it. Do you think I enjoy babysitting your brother?"

"Yes. I think you do."

Strange ran his tongue across his teeth and shook his head. "It could have been so much worse, Thor. I don't understand this chip on your shoulder. Even Loki doesn't bother to fight me the way you do. He could have been sentenced to the Raft for five-thousand years, or however long you Asgardians live." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been adamant that Thanos had control over him. I don't know how many of us really believe it, but… You are who you are, so he got a year of house arrest. Not even house arrest , Thor, it's…"

He was growing red-faced in the midst of his own argument, but Strange was clearly not a man who enjoyed having to defend his actions.

"One year. The agreement was one year of observation, then Loki gets access to everything in his magical arsenal and you two are free to do whatever you damn well please. Why couldn't you have just waited to bring him to Norway? One more month and I could've stopped pretending to give a shit."

Thor's expression had become so grave that he could feel the furrows in his brow going stiff. "You know I have more important places to be once Loki is free and we can depart Midgard."

"Yes. New Asgard. And where is that again?"

"Far from your jurisdiction, I can assure you."

Thor forced himself to look away, folding his hands tightly over the table. He thought about Loki, how he had started to look in New York, how he still looked now : wraithlike, and not only on the outside. Loki had become a shadow, a ghost, something not fully part of the living world. Small wonder he had gone overboard trying to crack Cora's secrets once they had set foot on free soil. Some prisoners went for brothels, Loki just preferred a different sort of playground.

Did Strange enjoy pretending that the reality of his and Loki's status was as simple as his simple words, or was he just an obstinate fool? Or was he something worse? _Observation, my ass._

His brother had held out his proverbial hand and allowed Strange to take from him that which made Loki _Loki_. Just how much of his magic had been locked off? More than had been their agreement, of this Thor was certain, but when he asked, Loki would not answer, and it broke Thor's heart to think just how much his brother was willing to sacrifice, to ensure they would both would see the year through.

Collateral. Thor had offered his kingship for his brother's "freedom"; Loki had given his soul to ensure his brother's oath.

Thor began to unconsciously wring his hands. Beads of light popped across his knuckles.

He had been quiet for a long time, now. The food was arriving. Thor leaned back so that they could place it on the table, but he had lost his appetite. Arms moved down and up through his field of vision; his near-murderous gaze on Stange did not break.

At last, the man across the table seemed to grow uncomfortable. "What?"

"You've castrated my brother and, like a dog, you expect him to be grateful for it, like you've made his captivity a little easier. I had to get him out of New York. You see what you've done to him, but you don't care."

Strange was smart enough refrain from comment for a moment. To an untrained eye, he even looked like he had begun to take Thor's words to heart as he frowned and pushed eggs around on his plate with his fork.

"I have a duty-" he finally began, soberly, but Thor did not want to hear it.

"Your duty is to everyone with a connection to Midgard, not every being with the exclusion of one ." Thor took a breath and rubbed his beard hard enough to leave welts beneath the hair. "You treat him like a monster, a scapegoat for Thanos's crimes. Not just you. All of…"

He could not finish. _All of those whom I once called friends._

Strange wrinkled his nose as he began to eat. "I disagree."

"Of course you do."

"Yes, Thor!" Strange snapped, unexpectedly. "We agreed to terms for his freedom, simple terms, lenient terms. What do you think he deserved? A pat on the back and a damn medal?"

Thor angrily took up his fork and poked at the greasy mess on his plate. His heart pounded within his throat.

Strange sighed. "I'm just a man doing my job. You can disagree all you want."

The thudding pulsations moved as high as the Asgardian's ears. Even if it was the truth, and Strange took no personal delight in Loki's misery, he could stand to be a bit more compassionate, could he not? Thor frowned. Perhaps Strange was only doing the job which had had been given, but Thor wished it had been anyone else.

Strange ate silently and aggressively, until he was too disgusted to continue. He dropped his silverware and shoved the platter to the side.

"They want you do come back and report on what happened. ASAP. No later than this afternoon."

Thor threw down the fork in his hand. "It was a personal… What do they want me to say? Who wants me to say it?"

"Ross, mostly," replied Strange. "I imagine Stark will be there."

"You watched it all, didn't you? You saw more than I. You make the report. The result will be the same either way." Really, what was the point? It was all just a formal procedure to add a black mark to Loki's record. Semantics. The deck was already stacked. "Why the rush?"

"Contrary to what you might think, Thor. I don't actually watch your brother twenty-four hours a day. Once he vanished from your apartment, I was alerted. I checked in a few times after I realized it was nothing more than a weird little personal vendetta."

Thor blinked. "If you saw him go… why didn't you tell me then?"

Strange gave a quick shrug. "I wanted to see how it played out. Look, Thor, I know he wasn't plotting to make humanity kneel before him. Again. But you are the one they want to see. You know you dropped the ball." He reached for his coffee. "I'm not the enemy here. I'm only the messenger."

Thor pushed his breakfast to the side and leaned forward, looking squarely at Strange. The knot in his stomach had been pulled a little tighter. Checking in a few times, being privy to the conversation with Cora - something about this was officially fishier than the sardines on their plates. "I don't have the time nor interest to return to New York to tell you all of what I don't know. You saw Loki leave. You did nothing. You waited until this morning to talk to me."

Strange held up a hand to stop him. "You know what the agreement is. Just because you haven't needed to make a report for a few months doesn't mean you get to stop making them when they're required."

With an unhindered gaze, Thor looked Strange up and down. What was wrong here? What was going on behind the man's shark-eyes?

What would Loki have noticed immediately?

But his perception felt dim, possibly due to the draining nature of anger, possibly due to hunger, and Thor would not rule out that Strange might be capable of messing with his perception without his realizing.

Strange's eyes dramatically narrowed, making his face more mask-like than it already was, harder to read what was buried beneath. Thor knew he was being too obvious, but he was combing through a mountain of information as quickly as his mind could do it. The eye on Norway, the waiting after Loki's disappearance, the ear on Loki's very personal conversation with Cora…

It suddenly occurred to Thor that Strange had likely been observing them in the coffee shop when they confront Cora with the photograph. And that meant they knew about the photograph.

They knew about _Cora_ and _her photograph_.

Thor felt the blood drain away from his cheeks, from where is seemed to collect in his stomach, thick and sour and hot.

Strange's sardonic smile returned. A ring of gold light appeared at his back, though which Thor could see the dark, moody interior of The Sanctum Sanctorum. Déjà vu flooded his senses, sending his skin crawling.

What was it with sorcerers and restaurants? First Loki and now this. Did they have something against completing a meal?

"Do you want to come with me now?" asked Strange, though to call it asking would be very generous. "Or do you need an hour? Can't give you more than that."

"You said I had until this afternoon." Thor blasted air through his nose in an attempt to rouse his anger, but his body was electric in an entirely different way, now, buzzing with dread.

"Changed my mind. Be outside your rental in an hour. Just you. Not your brother."

Thor seriously considered whipping something on the table, anything , through the damn portal that was quickly growing large enough to engulf a person. "I assume you've already fixed it so he couldn't follow us anyway."

"You know what, God of Thunder, when you're right, you're right."

And just like that, Strange was gone, only it was far less simple than merely vanishing. Not only had the man slipped from view, but Thor's entire surroundings had changed. A roaring wind filled his ears, only to be replaced in seconds by the aggressive lapping of the sea against the docks. He was out on the street, in the exact spot where he had first encountered Strange. Thor felt his body fall and strike the pavement, as the bench beneath him blinked out of existence. With an incensed growl, Thor swung at the air.

He was alone.

His raspy breath sounded like that of an animal as he pushed himself back on his feet. Thor reached into his pocket, plucking his phone and checking the time, and then he rolled his eyes.

Strange had sent him back a half-hour, as if their meeting had never taken place, with no reason for it except to prove that he could, that unlike Loki, his many powers were finely-tuned, sharp as knives, and intact.

 _Unlike_ Loki. A chill coursed through Thor's rage-hot blood, stilling him, like water turning to ice.

Unlike _Loki_ , whose powers were fractured and vulnerable and Strange had just admitted to tampering with, again. The last time he had done that...

 _Shit._

Thor spun around and pointed his gaze in the direction of the apartment. His heart was already pounding, his feet followed. He tore down the street.

 _I'm coming, Loki. I'm coming._

* * *

For the second time that morning, Loki would wake with only a faint concept of where he was, physically speaking, his head full of sludge, as though his brain was submerged in dank, murky waters. Earlier, he had thought himself to be in bed, rather than the sofa, but now it was the other way around, with the memory of drifting to sleep in the living room far more clear (inasmuch as anything could be called clear) than his more recent conversation with Thor.

He could recall the weight of Cora on the other end of the sofa and the shrieking witches of Hocus Pocus and sensation of his arms tightly knotted across his chest. Slowly, everything dimmed, all of the lights and noises receding into the background, and after that sleep must have finally taken him for now he was waking.

But he was in his bed and very confused by that fact. How had he gotten here? Loki sat up, too swiftly, throwing off his equilibrium, sending the room spinning. His head was aching, again - throbbing, actually. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers against his temples until the nauseating sensations started to fade, which they did, but it took a while. It took too long.

Through his teeth, Loki drew a shivering breath. He was remembering something else, now, something that had nothing to do with previously waking up on the sofa, Thor's ill-timed jokes, or urging Cora to go home, all of which had also begun to take shape in his brain and arrange themselves in some semblance of chronological order. He was recalling an event which had taken place just under a year ago, and an illness that followed.

Loki felt horrible, like absolute death, worse than before. As the waves of dizziness receded and he opened his eyes, he could see by the thin light through the window that the front of his shirt was drenched. He peeled the fabric from his chest, letting go only for it to fly back into place like a sticky rubber band. His palms were were pale and puckered all the way down to his fingertips, as though they had been in the bath, but it was all from sweat: cold, clammy, and disgusting.

His heart was in his throat and it felt like fire. Loki balled his hands into fists. His wrists were weak, but that did not stop him from clenching until he drew actual pain. If he could feel pain, at least he had not gone completely numb this time .

Loki spread his fingers again, narrowing his eyes on the center of his palms. He stared for a very long time. Nothing else happened. Nothing at all.

The front door flew open, shuddering on its hinges, nearly rattling Loki's teeth, which also ached. Thor's heavy boots clomped across the floor, making what sounded for a beeline for the bedroom. Loki saw his brother come to a halt on the other side of the door, his shadow breaking up the strip of light seeping between the wood and the floor. He anxiously shifted his weight from foot-to-foot.

"I'm awake," said Loki. That would speed things along. His voice sounded jarringly normal, considering how he felt.

The door swung open, bringing in more light than the faint dawn through the shaded window. It stung Loki's eyes, causing a pronounced winced, but he was determined to see the expression on Thor's face. He had no doubt that his brother was to be the bearer of some explanation, along with some what was probably some very bad news.

Thor, in a word, looked horrified. He also looked furious, but that was several layers down. He took a long, unstable step toward Loki, who might have held up a hand to protect his pride, had he the strength. The simple act of clenching his fists had drained him.

Thor moved in to get a good look, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He placed his knuckle on the side of Loki's chin, turning his face toward the light, and he released a forlorn sigh.

"It will pass," said Loki, mustering all the gentleness he was capable of. The fact that he felt so weak helped. He wanted to reassure his brother. He also wanted him to take step back and grant him some breathing room. His words accomplished neither, as Thor continued to tilt Loki this way and that, taking in each angle, and Loki's face had many angles to take in.

"How long?" asked Thor.

"A few hours for the worst of it. Maybe a day." Hopefully. The worst of it was hellish. He did not mention the days of weakness to follow or the mental fog which had never fully lifted from the first time. Loki had learned to live with it, to a point. The alternative was not living at all, Loki had tested those waters too many times already. Death had never proved to be an escape from anything.

Not to be morbid about it or anything.

Thor drew back his hand, only to move it to Loki's brow. He peeled away a few strands of sweat-matted hair, and that was when his brother finally snapped. He jumped to his feet and stomped away. "Dammit! Now I wish I really had killed him!"

Loki took a long breath and neatly placed his hands in his lap. "So, Brother… What happened while I was asleep?" As if he could not guess.

Stephen Strange had happened, that was what.

Thor had walked as far as the window. His silhouette was rigid, and the aura of rage that surrounded him so chaotic that Loki thought he might actually be able to literally see it. "I…"

The pause of apprehension was almost immediate. Again, Loki did not wonder why. It was clear that they were still being watched, even right this second.

"I ran into Strange on my way to get some breakfast," Thor said at last.

Loki pressed his lips together, forming an uneven smile. He puffed out his cheeks and nodded. "He's not terribly tickled about the whole Trondheim thing, I take it." His words tilted with a mocking lilt, but his stomach felt like a brick of lead. All things came with a price. Strange could take what he wanted, when he wanted, within the parameters of their so-called bargain.

"No. He's not," replied Thor. He voice was sad and thin, and it caused Loki to swallow hard. He turned around. A severe frown had put deep lines in all of his features and, given the meager backlighting from the window, it was a little like the sun had gone out. "He wants me to go back to New York and make a report. Now."

Loki's jaw tightened. "What could you even say? You saw none of it."

Thor sighed, though bore the low, guttural nuance of a growl. "Unfortunately, that is a large part of it, that you were able to do so much while I was none the wiser."

His voice, almost from word-to-word, waffled between acerbity and mounting anger, anger that Loki could perceive was somewhat directed at him. It left a bitter taste in Loki's mouth, but he held his tongue, because the guilt did not so easily roll off his shoulders. Doing harm to Cora was one thing, but harming his brother was something different. There was far too much at stake.

But Loki was angry, too, and anger was so much easier to let flow than guilt. "What do they expect, that you should follow me into every room? If I take too long on the toilet, are you to report on that? He opens Norway to me and then punishes me for-"

"He is likely listening to us right now," warned Thor.

"Does it matter? He's already sentenced me! He's syphoned off-" This time, it was Loki who interrupted himself, though not voluntarily. His breath had caught on a hitch. His heart started its pounding. What was cold grew hot and what was hot went cold.

 _Fantastic. Absolutely impeccable timing._ But what could he expect? Did this not make perfect sense? His magic was inaccessible, surgically spliced, and Loki felt like one enormous exposed nerve, vulnerable as a child, naked as a newborn.

One left out in the snow, perhaps.

...He shook his head. Thoughts like that would not help. The spasm of fear would not run its course if he fanned the flame. But the burning in and of itself, he could not so easily stop by waiting out. This fear was more than memory, this was his body reacting as though it had lost a limb.

Loki look a measured breath in and counted down the release, glancing sidelong at Thor, hoping his brother was too wrapped up in his own rage to notice. But Thor, damn him, was staring intently. His brows were low, his mouth hanging ever so slightly on its hinges.

"Loki?"

"I'm fine." Loki reflexively tightened his fists. He wished his brother still as narcissistic as he had once been. It was so much easier to conceal things back then, because he had so rarely looked past the end of his nose. Now, it was as if he had gained eyes rather than lost one.

"You clearly are not," said Thor, too quickly to sound anything but stern, but his gaze betrayed him as the light they reflected began to tremble.

" I will be ," Loki growled, throwing the blankets from his legs. He looked over the side of the bed, down at the floor, which appeared to be a fathomless depth and sent his stomach rolling. He took another steadying breath. "This part doesn't last forever. Who knows, once the initial shock fades, I might realize he hasn't taken as much as it seems. Dust... dust settles . M-Most of it was still accessible last time."

"That's not what I was referring-"

"Well, it's all... It's all I'm willing to discuss!" barked Loki as he pressed his palm against his forehead. He was still slick with sweat; all he wanted was to scrub himself clean.

"Loki…" Thor's voice was plaintive now. It was pained.

"P-Please, Brother, I don't have the energy." Loki aimed his feet at the floor - it really did feel like jumping - and steeled himself before rising, locking his knees until he was certain he was not going to fall. "I'll be fine."

"You won't be if you remain this determined to conceal everything!"

At last, Loki turned his face to Thor. He wanted to bite off brother's head, truly he did. Did he not know when to stop, when to leave something be?

Well, no. Of course he did not.

Loki's stomach rolled again and he thought there was a good chance he might become ill. "I am sorry you have to make the report on your own, but they never invite me to meetings where I might actually defend myself, so..." It was not an apology in the remotest sense. It was an exit. Loki moved as swiftly as he could manage, though it hurt - Norns, how everything hurt - from the bedroom toward the bath, touching both door frames to steady himself along the way. His body shook. Even switching on the light was a chore.

"Loki. Don't." Thor was following him.

"Thor. I mean it. I can't right now-"

His brother caught him by the shoulder, spinning him around, against both Loki's will and his ability to keep upright. Loki's hands flew forward, fists balled, ready to strike, but his arms held no strength. The last thing he saw before hitting the floor was Thor's eyes going wide with shock, and then they flashed with horror.

Losing consciousness sounded wonderful, but Loki had no luck. He could half-hear Thor's frantic apologies as the world spun and wobbled and, at last, became blessedly level beneath his hands and knees. And quiet. It was so silent that he could not even hear Thor's breathing.

Loki's body, meanwhile, screamed with the ferocity of a wounded dragon.

What remained of his pride, a mere ounce perhaps, somehow survived the fall. Carefully, gingerly , Loki began to peel himself from the tile floor. When he was able, he waved a hand to ensure that Thor would not assist, but it seemed his brother had no ability to doing anything but gape in petrified awe. Loki pressed his back against the side of bathtub and caught his breath.

 _Ta da..._

For being so utterly humiliated, he felt unexpectedly, astonishingly calm. The waves of panic had receded. A blow to the head had an uncanny knack for clearing the mind.

Thor swallowed, lowering himself to take a knee. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to reach for Loki after all, but instead he pushed himself against the opposite wall and flopped down in an ungraceful heap. A ferocious pulse was visible in the sinews of his neck, but his face was pale and drawn, and though he had been the one to strike the floor. As to who between them was the more dazed, Loki could not tell. How could looking at Thor be so unlike looking in a mirror, and yet reflect so much?

"I'm not bleeding, am I?" asked Loki, gliding a hand across his brow. His fingertips came up clean, but the tension would not break.

"Brother… I'm frightened to leave you when you're like this."

"I'm not dying, Thor."

Thor swallowed again, harder. "Aren't you?" His voice cracked like that of a adolescent. "This isn't you. You aren't yourself."

"I'd say taking a deliberate swing at you is quite like myself."

"Stop."

"I'm not certain I can. Not swing at you, I mean."

In spite of the strain, Thor gave in to a smile, though it was meager and uncertain of how to settle, and never quite reached his eyes. Loki appreciated the attempt. If he could put a smile on Thor's face, then he had to be doing some part of all this right.

But the moment was fleeting, and the serenity of his humiliation had likewise evaporated, replaced by a stomach of lead as he watched Thor's gaze cool and harden. His brother needed something much more than a smile, something Loki had buried so deep that to dig it up seemed an arduous task, and he was fairly certain he did not have the strength.

"Loki, we're still going in circles. You insist on your secrets, I push too hard to get them out of you. One of us usually ends up taking a swing... There has to be a better way."

"Of course there's a better way, but this is us we're talking about. Give it a few more centuries." He watched Thor to see if he had earned another smile, but his face remained grim. Loki adjusted the position of one of his legs, wincing as he did so. "Be patient with me. I'm trying."

Thor nodded. "Could you try harder?"

Loki could not reply. His lips were parted, but no sound found their way out. His brother looked like a forlorn child and Loki knew he must have had the same bleak expression on his own face. How often had their positions been reversed, with he the one to plead with Thor when he so desperately needed more than a quip or a growl. Was Thor still oblivious to Loki's torment when he looked back on that dark era? Probably. Thor would never fully understand, but Loki had accepted that. The point was that his brother had taken an interest now, had shown interest for a long time, and Loki wished, so very much, that he could conjure words to come forth from his tense throat.

"Loki, I don't know how I'll be able to face Ross and Strange, if you can't give me…" Thor shrugged. "A little faith."

Loki lowered his face, tilting his chin into the hollow of his pronounced collarbones until skin touched skin. He stared past his feet toward a spot that slowly grew and transformed into a void, a space there only thought seemed to exist. A little faith? His eyes glazed over from not blinking. Even Thor's overbearing form receded into the figurative gray mist, until there seemed to be nothing in the room aside from Loki and his own threadbare mind.

"Loki?"

Thor's voice gave him a start.

"I'm thinking," Loki blurted.

Sensation returned. He could feel the tile beneath his outstretched legs and the overhead lights regained their brightness, and he lifted his eyes to Thor.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I still have those attacks... from time-to-time."

Thor's good eye gave a twitch. "How often?"

"Once in a while, I suppose. It's fairly random. It doesn't bother me all that much."

"Then why do you hide it?"

"Because I know it bothers you." He tilted his ear toward his shoulder. No longer did everything seem far in the distance; the entire scene felt as though it was flush against his eyes. Loki ran a knuckle across the lower rim of his eyelids, first one side, than the other, and then he attempted to smile, because he did not know what else to do.

Thor shook his head. "It's never _bothered_ me. It _concerns_ me."

"Yes, well, I've never been terribly good at separating the two of those."

"I was under the impression that Stark had helped you." Thor scratched the back of his neck. His face and eyes seemed at battle with one another, expressing anger one moment and shame the next, like a gathering storm.

"He did. Not every solution is neat and tidy. You lost an eye. You have a false one that grants you sight, but the eye is still gone." Loki adjusted his weight again, pulling a knee close and letting it fall to the side. He shifted to a tone of voice far more serious. "The truth is that I can't bare to be pitied, Thor."

Thor frowned. He brought a hand to his chest and clutched a fistful of the fabric. "I just feel so responsible."

"Oh, how could we have realized what Strange was aiming to do-"

"No, Loki. All of it. I feel… I feel responsible for so much of you've been through."

Loki drew back his head.

"The shadow you said you lived within, the fall from the Bifrost… Do you recall, when we first encountered one another on Earth, when I thought you were dead, and you told me you remembered it as if I had thrown you?"

"Yes, but that was… That was a _delusion_ ." It was difficult to admit, even now, the susceptibility of his own mind to the Titan's poison.

Thor worked his jaw for a moment and then shook his head. "It's always stayed with me. I think there might be more truth in it than either of us want to admit. I should have realized what I was doing to you, all those years. I was creating a rift, separating you from everyone, from our friends, from father, causing division by my own arrogance. I thought it was the role I was born to play, and I didn't question it until it was too late."

Loki ran his fingertips across the space beside his leg, gliding along the smooth surface of the tile. His mouth hung on its hinges, though breath came neither in nor out. It was stupefying to learn, after so long a time, that he had been so wrong, that Thor did understand what had pushed Loki over the edge long before the Bifrost - and that not only did he understand, but that he was guilt-ridden.

"Brother, I… I don't know what to say."

"I'm sorry, Loki. Can you forgive me?"

Between the each of the black-and-white tiles on the floor was a thin strip of grout: gritty, gray, hard as rock. Loki distractedly scraped his index finger down one line, pulling up a minuscule cloud of dust. He rubbed his finger and thumb together, brushing the power away.

He thought. Thor waited with a surprising amount of patience.

"Brother," said Loki, at last lifting his eyes. "I would be lying if I said I didn't blame you for many things. But when I think about falling from the Bifrost and ultimately pledging my fealty to the Titan, you are the last person I hold accountable. You sought me out, you never gave up. Yes, I was incredibly jealous of you at times… I still am, now and then. Not too often, mind you." Loki smirked. "We are doomed to exasperate one another for centuries. But I no longer doubt that you love me. And I hope you never doubt that I forgive you."

Loki's heart felt as though it had nestled itself, almost comfortably, against the wall of his chest, sending out the first real bit of warmth he had felt since waking. He watched a smile, a real one, bloom across his brother's face, fanning the faint lines beside his eyes.

Thor rocked forward onto his knees. He shuffled toward Loki and clasped a hand behind his neck. And then immediately, his expression turned sour and he reclaimed his hand. "You are disgustingly clammy."

"I am well aware."

"Probably why you came here in the first place." Thor pointed his face this way and that around the bathroom.

"It was."

For a moment, Thor looked as though he was debating with himself, his damp hand still hovering in the air. It was Loki who moved first, wrapping his arm around Thor's back. His limbs did not seem quite so weak as he patted his shoulder blade. Thor's debate came to an end and he wrapped Loki in a firm embrace, lifting him from the floor, which hurt a bit, but hardly worth making a complaint.

"Oh, god. You feel so gross. I'm actually regretting this," said Thor. But his arms did not loosen their hold.

Loki's chuckle was muffled by the fabric of Thor's denim jacket. "Shut up. You're ruining the moment."

Neither of them made another comment. After a few more seconds, their arms naturally parted and Thor helped Loki to his feet, but it was only to a degree that they separated. Loki reached out and pinched the sleeve of Thor's jacket. "You're going to meet with Strange and Ross, now?"

"I am."

"You won't take offence if I give you a bit of advice?"

Thor looked blank for a moment. And then he gave a nod.

Loki lowered his voice. He doubted it mattered. The had means to listening in the defied volume. "Don't underestimate Strange. There is nothing more dangerous than a man who has convinced himself that he's on the side of the angels. Believe me, I would know."

Thor lifted an eyebrow. "Did you really think you were fighting the good fight?"

"I thought I was doing the only work that mattered," said Loki. "You would be wise if every time you spoke to him, you pictured me as I was then, and then reconsidered whatever it was you were about to say."

"You are nothing alike, even as you were then."

"This is general advice. War tactics. You are already angry with him. If you go there on the attack, it will only push him further into believing how right he is. Better yet, don't see me when he speaks, be me when you speak. I can't be in there with you; you have to act as my voice."

"This is a just eloquent way of warning me not to mess up," said Thor. He adjusted the collar of his jacket and glanced toward the front door, bristling ever so slightly.

"Yes, well, they didn't start calling me Silvertongue for no reason at all."

Thor blasted air through his nose. "I feel as though I'm walking into a trap. Something isn't right. Strange kept his eye on you for almost a day before seeking me out. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. But all the more reason why you need to think before you speak."

Glancing across his shoulder, Thor shot Loki a glare.

Loki held up both hands. "I have the utmost faith that you are capable of thinking. I have seen you do it several times."

Thor rolled his eyes. "I am regretting that hug, now."

Again, Loki reached forward and tugged on the sleeve of his brother's coat, reeling him in. His face had become sober once more. "You're angry. I am, too. But that only means that Strange already has the advantage. But if this is a battle, then you should find it easy to think like a general."

Loki watched a spark of light return to his brother's eyes. He clapped his hand on his shoulder and they exchanged one final preparatory look before Thor swiftly marched himself out of the bathroom. He turned and vanished and the front door opened and closed.

That was when Loki's knees gave out. The lip of the tub was beneath him and he sat himself there, catching his breath. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if to guide the air in and out.

 _Don't do anything stupid, Thor, for love of me. Please._

 _This cannot be over soon enough._


	12. Nakken

Loki had a problem.

Frowning deeply, he paused within the wooden frame of the bedroom door, supporting his depleted body with one hand, securing a towel around his waist with the other. He had showered, and though it had been no magical cure, he did at least feel better for having done so. His joints still ached and walking took more out of him than running ever had, but no longer did he feel slimy as an eel from cold fever sweats, which was a great step toward feeling half-alive, rather than half-dead.

None of that altered the fact that a problem remained: a practical, fairly avoidable problem with which he now had to contend. Loki balled the fabric of the towel in his fist, clenching his jaw as he swallowed.

Oh yes, he indeed had a problem. He did not have any clothing.

Loki had not thought to pack a bag. Never before in his life had such a thing been necessary, except, he imagined, in childhood, before he had learned to cast illusions or store items in the pockets between dimensions. That had been several hundred years ago, too long to retain any significance in his memory, and Loki doubted he had been the one packing the bags even then, when there were servants to do such things. Or perhaps his mother had laid a hand to the task.

The ultimate result was the same: Loki could not recall a time when things - whatever he might need - were not in easy, almost instantaneous reach, and though the work of honing his magic had been laborious, there was no questioning that he had become at least a bit spoiled in the years since its mastery.

Loki grumbled across the darkened room and perched himself on the edge of his bed, releasing the towel and letting gravity do the work of keeping it draped across his lap. His fingers had gone stiff from holding on so tightly and remained bent, just as his spine curved forward under the weight of his body, though he felt hollow inside. His entire form had adopted a concave appearance. Even breathing was more like dragging unwilling air into his lungs.

Showered or not, this anemic state would hang on him for some time. The first bout, when Strange's initial barriers were set in place, had left Loki sickly for about a week. After that, the wound which the operation had inflicted upon him seemed to heal, and he regained access to some of what first seemed lost, not unlike an limb recovering motion and strength after the trauma of injury.

The first time had been considerably worse, actually. To lose magic, it turned out, was a kind of desanguination, and Loki's body had gone nearly physically numb from the shock of being drained of so much at one time. Stirring up the memory, as he did now, made him go hot and cold all over, but at least it was something he could feel.

Small victories...

Loki closed his eyes and told himself it would be wiser expending energy solely on problems which he could solve. Dressing himself, for example. Raking in a deep breath, he switched on a table lamp, brightening the little blue bedroom, and picked up the clock which stood squat at the corner of the table.

Nine-thirty. Thor was unreachable by now, provided he had not already short-circuited the meeting with Ross and Strange by punching a hole through either of them. Loki sighed, looking down at himself. The sigh became a thorny chuckle and he shook his head. There was humor in this, somewhere, but he was glad to be alone, laughing into a vacuum.

All right. Clothing. Scraping together a bit of dignity would go a long way toward keeping him sane until Thor returned with news.

Loki skimmed a palm over his slick, wet hair, cradling the back of his skull as it came to rest there. For a moment he remained like that, silent and still, thinking. With a blast of air through his nose, he threw his hand to the side, carrying his hair with it, which curved snake-like around his neck. Thrusting forward that same hand, he turned his palm upward and stared into it.

But of course, nothing happened. Loki clenched his fist with a sting of embarrassment for even making the attempt.

There was no chest of drawers in the room, no obvious places to store clothing, which was odd, but the room was exceedingly small. In fact, when Loki had split the single bed into two, it had placed both all but flush against the east and west walls, minus a pair of tiny nightstands on either side.

He twisted around and stared down the rest of the room. This was only a puzzle, was it not? He could solve a puzzle, even if his brain felt like it was full of burlap. Probably. What did he have to work with?

The only clothing in his possession were the pajamas which he had conjured the previous night. They were now damp with sweat and beginning to smell like something pickled, and washing them by hand would take too much time. By the time they were dry and wearable, Thor would have returned.

But… Loki tilted his head. Thor had brought a bag with him, had he not? The clothing would be ill-fitting, but it was better than nothing at all, which was the literal description of Loki's alternatives.

So it had come to this: dressing like a drifter in Norwegian fishing village. He might as well be human.

Loki rose to his feet, tightening the grip on his towel as he circled to the center of the space, in the lane between the two beds. The towel was not strictly necessary; he was the only one in the apartment. But with the strong likelihood of Strange checking in at some point during the meeting in New York, it seemed wise to keep something wrapped around him. Although truthfully, Loki was rather tempted to let go and give the doctor a clear view of his good opinion. It was unfortunate that he had just given Thor instruction on curbing his impulsive temper.

He scanned the room with the narrow eyes of a cat on the hunt. _Were I Thor, where would I haphazardly scatter my worldly possessions?_

To that, the answer came quickly. Loki got down on his knees, carefully, lowering himself until his cheek touched the floor and he could peer beneath his brother's bed. A satisfied smile spread across his face as the metal fixtures of Thor's travel bag winked at him like stars in a darkened sky. Loki stretched out and dragged the canvas backpack into the light. Salvation!

But the material flopped lifelessly in his hands and inside he found only air. Loki shuddered in disbelief and his heart sank, forming a knot in his gut. Had the bag only ever been full of maps? Where was Thor keeping his clothing, in the kitchen drawers?

With a hiss, he cast the bag aside, and rocking back on his heels, Loki inhaled deeply to catch his breath from the exertion. His chin dipped. He looked down at himself, into the grizzled eye of the scar at the center of his chest, watching the discolored skin pulsate in time with his heart.

The sour taste of bile rose to the back his throat. His eyes moved from his chest to the towel in his lap, and then down the length of his legs, coming to rest on his bare feet and the bluish color beneath of his toenails. He shivered. With a laugh dripping with pure disgust, almost a wretch, Loki threw his gaze away from himself, shaking his head. Whatever fragmented hint of comedy he thought he saw moments ago, it must have been a delusion, a remnant of his fever.

 _Come and see Prince Loki of Jotunheim, naked as the day he was born and subsequently cast on a frozen rock!_

He despised everything: Strange and Ross and New York. He hated Norway, too. Everything smelled of salt and fish and it was nauseating. Earth was a prison. Once he had run where even the gods dared not walk, in the corridors between worlds, passageways which boggled the fully sane. Entire planets reached toward his outstretched hand and Loki could pull them to himself in an instant, covering distances beyond the speed of the Bifrost in a single step. It was an existence which contained no barriers; the universe belonged to him.

And what had his universe been reduced to but a few square feet of Manhattan real estate? Now, it was even smaller than that: a claustrophobic collection of the molecules which comprised his body. Loki hated the way he his skin felt, knowing it was where he came to an _end_.

He have to have been a glutton for pain, thought Loki, as he masochistically lifted his palm once more, but magic, he had learned, was perniciously addictive. To separate the physical from the metaphysical was to cause a kind of bodily chaos, a panic, and it responded with acute distress. It demanded it be given what it was so convinced it needed to keep the heart pumping, the brain firing. _Where is it? Where has it gone? Where is the thing which I cannot do without?_

His hand began to quiver under the strain, with veins bulging in his arm. Loki's vision blurred, his stomach rolled, but he pushed his conscious further and further inward, into the recesses of what was starting to feel like a vast, interior cavern. An blood-chilling emptiness. His pulse had an echo.

There had to be something left. If only he delved deeply enough, he could find it. It was only sleeping. He would wake it up!

Loki began to see spots before the rapidly dimming backdrop of the bedroom. He squeezed his eyes shut against them, but they remained, and his head started to throb.

"Find it…" He heard the growl of his voice as though it was coming from somewhere far separated from himself. "Find it, you worthless-!"

With a sharp pain at the back of his skull, Loki cried out. The cavern caved in upon itself. The floor beneath his legs seemed to vanish, reappearing seconds later as it struck his forehead and, like a bell, set his ears rang. Fresh pain wracked his body from head to toe. It was searing agony, like fire. He spat the taste of blood from his mouth.

Loki screamed in pain, a roar of pure, boiling rage, bestial and base. Yet the cry inside would not be outdone. It screamed all the louder, more determined than before. _Where is it? Why did you stop? Find it! Give me what I need!_

His breath came in ragged pulls. Loki knew he would tear himself apart if he delved any deeper. He slid his palms across the floor, trying to claim some semblance of balance, inching toward the wall.

He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes to the ceiling. The colors transmuted from shades of gray to blurry browns, and slowly, very slowly, the world came back into focus. His body flattened out along the floor.

His breath was still far beyond his ability to catch it, pulsating through him in uneven heaves. Loki had no choice but to endure the frantic, internal shriek. Perhaps madness was indeed setting in, because he could almost literally hear it now: like a desperate child, like an infant's high-pitched wailing. And what did a child want, except his mother? Loki swallowed, nearly choking. The Mother. The mysterious force which kept the child alive, fed him, kept him warm, loved him. And what if the mother did not come when the child cried? An infant did not have the capacity understand. To not be instantaneously gratified was to plunge into the despair of utter abandonment.

He clenched his teeth. Strange did not know what he had taken, but he hated him for it, as intensely as he had ever hated any creature. Even this void was only a temporary state, Loki concluded that his hatred would remain far beyond the human's pathetically short lifespan.

Loki did not care that he could not walk between worlds nor pull clothing from inter-dimensional pockets. Damn all of that. Let Strange keep it. But his magic was all of that remained of his mother and to lose that…

 _~You might want to take the stairs to the left.~_

Bitter, petty words. A few seconds of weakness, and the cost?

 _~Did she suffer?~_

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and turned onto his side.

As a child, he would stretch a hand forward, listen to her instruction, and delve into the germinating magic within. If nothing happened, when there was only a void at his fingertips, then Frigga would take his hand and fold it in her own, center his scattered, boyish mind, and show him the way. The magic she had to share was ancient, and Loki, who had already begun to suspect that he might never match his brother in brute force or his father in severity, wanted nothing more than to be his mother's perfect student, to make someone in his family proud.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.

Frigga's magic had been his only true, material connection to Asgard. What could not be his by blood had become his by rite of passage, and Strange had no right to steal from an entire race what his mother had given him to protect. He tightened his fist until his fingers ached.

He would never belong to Asgard, but he would always carry was Frigga had given to him. Or so Loki believed.

 _~Did she suffer?~_

In the end, Loki had not been able to save her. He could only avenge her, and then spend a veritable eternity cursed, wondering if the culprit he should have exacted vengeance upon was himself.

* * *

For a long while, Loki lied there, wrapped in his towel, recovering from the shock of pain until it subsided and felt more like resting. He could have fallen to sleep if he gave himself the time, but some sound or another roused him, and once his eyes opened, they remained so. The sun was coming through the window full force by now, illuminating the room, casting shadows beneath the bed he faced, which happened to be Thor's. He did not feel peaceful, but his mind slowed to a less ragged pace Memories of Frigga came and went, in and out, like the water that surrounded the archipelago which Loki could literally hear in the distance.

He thought about New York, across much larger waters, and what might be happening. Was the meeting still going on? Loki detested being in the dark. Could they see him now? Perhaps they would take pity.

Oh, but no, that thought did not sit well. Like a pinch between his ribs, Loki bristled at the idea, smiling a grim smile. He would not give them the satisfaction; no, he would rise and face what remained of the morning, wrapped in his towel if that was all he had, or perhaps trade it for a blanket.

"I mean, really," he murmured to himself, still half-smiling, "Where was I going to go, anyway?" If his mother were there, Loki thought of how she would have laughed along with him at that. They had always shared a dark sense of humor.

Still, it was a challenge to rise _immediately_. The floor had become surprisingly comfortable. It felt good to have something solid beneath him, and there was strength left to gather.

He peered beneath Thor's bed, noting the balls of dust. Far too many of them. He sighed. No wonder his brother snored. It was a godly feat that he could breathe at all.

But… Now, what was this?

Loki examined the slatted wood which supported the mattress, or rather, on something which seemed not to belong, something like a box, attached to the framework of the bed. It stretched for nearly the entire length. It even dangled a little, with some gapping above.

Sitting up with enough swiftness to make himself dizzy, Loki pushed through and circled to the other side. His eyes grew wide. His smile grew wider.

What he had discovered was a _drawer_.

The tiny room had no need of closets and chests for storage, because the storage itself was part of the bed. How infuriatingly clever, or simply infuriating, but Loki's heart was fluttering in his throat.

He knelt, draping the towel across his knees, and hooked his long fingers beneath a pair of notches that served as handles. He gave it as strong a yank as he could, revealing the most lovely sight Loki was certain he had ever laid eyes upon: layers upon layers of denim and cotton, overwashed and faded, a veritable shine to Thor's lazy Midgardian fashion sense. Loki nearly bowed his head in prayer.

It was all going to be too big, but it did not take much rifling until he found cotton pants - sweats, but not quite so bulky - with a drawstring. Loki hastily threw them on, leaving behind his towel once and for all, pulled the string taught and tied a knot. It draped a bit awkwardly, but at least his hands were finally free. He picked a t-shirt at random and threw it on, as well.

His breath quickened from the exertion. Loki sat on the edge of Thor's bed, facing the window, with his chest rising and falling quickly, but his cheekbones ached from satisfied smiling. Small victories indeed.

Through the slats of the window blinds, he could see the mountains beyond the fjord. Everything was glittering: the flecks of precious minerals in the stone; the snow caps and the white, veiny tendrils that hugged the face of the rock; the water, as waves mimicked with miniature peaks of foam. The day was exceptionally bright, enough to make his eyes water, but it suddenly looked so pretty that Loki kept staring. And the air was probably frigid, but the sun cast warm lines over his body, and Loki drank it in. Or tried to.

In New York, Thor's meeting had to be well underway. Loki was rarely at these sessions which centered on his fate, but it was all too easy to imagine Ross and Strange attempting to bear down in his brother, as if in any other situation, they might be equally matched. He smirked. Oh, what Loki would pay for a front-row seat to that beating. But the meeting was not war, but a war of words. It was a mind game, a minefield. If Thor could keep his head cool, then there was a fair chance all would be well, but if not… It was so obvious to Loki why they had to keep him at a safe distance, even without his arsenal of tricks.

Thor was on his own. Loki felt his throat tighten and he absentmindedly scratched the center of his palm.

His brother was no fool, he knew that; he believed that, but Thor was so far away and Loki felt… Damn it all, not everything had to be complicated: he simply did not want to be alone. If what belonged to Frigga had truly been drained from him, then Thor was the last connection to something beyond his own skin that Loki retained.

He looked down into his open palm, so full of nothing.

And with a heavy sigh, he squeezed it shut.


End file.
